


QUEER

by Parameme



Category: Bandom, Paramore
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, FTM, Fluff and Smut, Paramore (Band), Tayley (Paramore), Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-04-27 01:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 26,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14414517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parameme/pseuds/Parameme
Summary: Taylor wants to be like any other boy. Not everybody can accept that.





	1. cleaning out my closet

I sit on the couch within my therapist's office, used tissues scattered along my lap and tears staining my rose colored cheeks. My therapist is confused as to why exactly I'm crying. All I said was that I needed to tell her something, but I quickly discovered that I wasn't strong enough to immediately tell her what that something was.

So my therapist sits there, her legs crossed and glasses on. Her hand props her chin up as she listens closely, ready for whatever I have to say. I think it's safe to say that she does not expect something good to be said.

This secret has been killing me for almost a year now. Nobody knows except for my very best friend. I dab my cheek with a tissue once more before I finally admit, "I'm trans."

My therapist is clearly speechless. She informs me that she has never dealt with a transgender patient before, so this is very new to her and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing. She doesn't seem to think it's bad, which is what I had been fearful of.

"How long have you known...that?" my therapist asks. Although she appears to be fine with it, it also seems as though she's not comfortable with directly saying what I am.

I sniffle before saying, "Almost a year. I realized last March." By this point, it is late January. Ten months of hiding who I am.

My family doesn't know. My peers, aside from Zac, don't know. Everyone is oblivious. Even when I asked my mom if I could get a haircut, she thought nothing of it. Maybe she thought I was a tomboy, which I too always assumed was the reality. But there's more to it than that. When I showed up to school with short hair, everyone just thought I wanted something new.

For the last six months, I've been wearing a binder that I purchased without my mom's knowledge. Whenever she does my laundry, I toss a few bras in there so she's not confused over the lack of that type of clothing.

When the appointment is over and my mom joins my therapist and I in the room, it stings even more than usual every time they refer to me by the incorrect pronouns. Not that my mom knows or that my therapist could call me by my preferred pronouns in front of her, but it's still painful to hear. It always is.

For the next two months, every single one of my appointments with my therapist is focused on my dysphoria and my growing urge to come out to my mom, and then to even more people after I tell her. Eventually, I tell her. My therapist calls her into the office in the middle of one of our sessions, and I tell my mom. She cries. I cry. It's a weight lifted off of my shoulders, but I know that there's so many more people to tell.

With tears in her eyes, she says to me, "I love you, but I need time to process this." The entire car ride home is incredibly awkward. Just before we head inside our house, she stops me and hugs me.

"Can you tell dad for me?" I ask as she and I hug. "Whenever you're ready to," I add.

"I want you to do it. I can be there for you when you tell him," she responds. "I just think it's very important for _you_ to tell him." We then enter the house as if nothing is wrong.

—

Three weeks later, I'm sitting down at dinner with my entire family, all of us eating in silence. There's usually not much conversation during our meals, just some small talk and a few exchanges of "Pass the salt/ketchup/butter/etc."

My mom notices how I'm not eating my meal, and she automatically knows why. We had already discussed that it was time for me to tell my dad and my brothers.

As we sit there, I ponder how exactly I'm going to break the news to everyone. My dad begins to ask us about our days at school, and I inform him that I received an A+ on a math test.

"That's my girl!" he says, pointing his fork at me with a smile upon his face.

"Yeah..I'm...I'm actually not a girl, dad," I respond hesitantly with a forced laugh. I instantly regret saying that, knowing it was a very awkward way to break the news. He looks up at me with a puzzled look.

"What?" he asks. Now, everyone is staring at me.

"Well, I'm...a boy. I'm-I'm transgender." I can feel the tears forming in my eyes. I blink rapidly, wanting to appear strong and certain in this moment. Although I am certain that this is who I really am, I'm not feeling so strong.

My dad drops his fork and gets up from the dinner table.

"I think I'm gonna have to go for a drive. I'll be back later," he says before walking out of the house, not even bothering to clean up his plate.

"So...I have another brother now?" Justin asks. I slowly nod in response. I'm sure this is weird for him but I appreciate his support and enthusiasm. "Cool," he says with a smile before he continues eating.


	2. new kid

After several discussions with my mom, she's finally agreed to let me switch schools. Instead of completing my junior year at the local high school in Nashville, I'll instead attend the high school in Franklin. It's a bit farther away than my former school, but I think my mom agreed to it only so I would shut up.

My dad, still, is not okay with it. My brothers don't really care because they just want me to be happy and they're barely home as is, but my mom is becoming increasingly supportive as time goes on. Despite the disapproval of my dad, my mom still makes an effort to refer to me by the correct pronouns when around other people. With my dad, she keeps it the way he wants it to be. I've learned to just deal with it.

At my new school, it'll be a fresh start, where nobody will know me as the person I used to be. On the brightside, I'm content with my name as it is so being deadnamed is not an issue. In addition to the fresh start, I'll also be attending the same school as Zac. I've become so accustomed to sitting alone at lunch that it'll be weird to have someone with me.

—

My mother and I sit in my future principal's office as he goes on and on about how the school is "safe for everyone" and "totally intolerant of bullying". This is Tennessee, therefore I know he's telling us this information not because it's true, but because it's something we want to hear.

My mom and I are here to ensure that none of my teachers will, you know, misgender me. We also want to be sure that using the men's bathroom will not be an issue. The principal insists that I should just use the bathroom located in the Nurse's office, but that means walking all the way downstairs and all the way there just to pee. That seems very unnecessary in my opinion.

"People will know that I'm... _different,"_ I argue when he suggests that I use that restroom instead of the several restrooms designated for men. He gulps and looks down at a file set in front of him. I also add, "It'll just disrupt my education. It'll take longer for me to walk all the way to the Nurse's office than it would take to walk to the regular bathrooms. It's not helping anybody."

"Fair point," he says with wide, blue eyes. "Well, okay. But if it becomes a problem, then don't hesitate to let me know and to use the nurse's bathroom instead."

I roll my eyes and say, "Will do."

—

Less than one week after the meeting between me, my mom, and the principal, the dreadful school year begins. Zac and I walk into school together, my hands buried in the pockets of the ripped skinny jeans that I already regret wearing, considering the horrendous heat and the school's lack of air conditioning (which I was not aware of prior).

"Come on, I'll bring you to meet my friends," he says before guiding me towards two vending machines where two familiar looking males are located, with another guy appearing to be heading towards them. I've met them all before briefly, but Zac knows that I'm not very comfortable around too many people so he doesn't force me to be, well, _social_.

"Hey Zac, and uh, what was her name?" one of Zac's friends asks. I immediately feel an urge to walk away. They remember me, not enough to know my name but enough to know what I don't _want_ them to know.

Zac quickly corrects them. _"His_ name is Taylor. He just switched schools, it's his first day here."

I'm greeted by two brothers ― Joey and Jon ― and a foreign exchange student by the name of Logan.

"Sorry about that, I'm forgetful. Zac told me about that, but, yeah...It's good that I won't mess up your name at least," Joey says, apologizing for his mistake when it came to my pronouns. He laughs it off and I smile in return. I want to forget that happened, to move on.

"Where are you from?" Logan asks me.

"Well, I live in Nashville. Always have. Just needed a fresh start this year," I explain to him and the rest of the little group.

Logan quirks a brow and asks, "Why? Why did you decide that you needed a fresh start?"

Before I even manage to think of a response, Jon gives Logan a punch in the shoulder and whispers, "That's the guy that Zac told us about. You know...the guy without a dick." He says it as if Logan was being the rude one, but followed up by saying something far more offensive.

I pretend to have not heard his words, gulping as I look down at my hands. I know that Jon's intentions are most likely not fueled by malice, but instead by ignorance. I'm probably the first trans person he's ever met. Zac glances over at me, afraid that I heard Jon's rude words. Kind of sucks to be labeled like that, even though it's not wrong. It's just not the most graceful way to word it, is all.

"How about you? Where are you from?" I ask Logan. His body language seems to tell me that he's now slightly uncomfortable around me.

"Oh, I'm from New Zealand. I was a foreign exchange student last year and was able to do it again this year, obviously. Still trying to convince my parents to let me stay here or for them to move here. No luck so far."

They all begin talking about things that don't involve me, so I immediately zone out. Minutes later, I'm pulled from my short lived trance when I hear the bell that signals the beginning of first period, followed by a short announcement. "The time is 8:20. You have five minutes until first period. Have a nice first day, everybody!"

Zac directs me to my first period class, which ultimately results in him being late to his first class of the day. I don't know how I would do this without Zac's help.

I feel bad and apologize for causing him to be late for his first period class, but he just tells me to shut up and quit saying sorry. I apologize for my constant use of the word sorry, and then say sorry once more. In other words, I'm the most annoying friend ever.


	3. my favorite liar

As I walk the halls during my second week of school, I notice several flyers upon the otherwise plain, white walls. All of the signs are either promoting clubs that take place within the school or sports that they have teams for.

I'm not a big fan of sports, primarily because I've become accustomed to being forced onto the all-female teams _and_ because my binder adds a whole new level of pain when I have to exercise for an extended period of time. Gym class is more than enough for me, so I think I'll pass on extracurricular sports.

None of the clubs are catching my eye either. Anime club? Not my thing. French club? I'd have to be able to speak that language in order to actually be involved and participate, so I'll pass on that one as well. Debate club? That involves public speaking, so that's a no.

Amongst the flyers of many clubs that I have no interest in joining, one colorful sheet of paper catches my eye. I approach the piece of paper, reading the rainbow words printed on it.

In a large font, multicolored letters spell out "GSA" and just beneath those letters, in a smaller font, an explanation of the acronym and a description of the club is provided.

It reads, "Gay-Straight Alliance is an all-inclusive club that brings LGBTQ+ students and allies together to support one another. It gives students a safe place to socialize and creates a platform to fight together against today's issues of transphobia, homophobia, and more. Join GSA today."

On the very bottom of the page is a bit of information pertaining to when and where the first meeting of the year will be held.

In almost illegible handwriting, the word "faggot" is written in pen across the top. I can't say it's surprising that a flyer like this one would be vandalized in such a fashion.

I'm pushed to the side by a tall male a few seconds later and hear the words, "Get out of the way, idiot," being yelled at me. Maybe it wasn't smart to stand in the middle of the hallway.

—

Two days later, I'm in a classroom that I've never been inside of before. Students from all grades enter the room, most having friends that they are conversing with. I dragged Zac along because I knew I wouldn't have anyone else to talk to.

At the front of the room are two females. One girl has an (obviously) unnatural shade of pink in her hair, the other girl having bleach blonde hair. The green-eyed blonde — who I notice is much shorter than the girl she stands beside — catches my eye. Not that I have a chance with her anyway, I'm just admiring from afar.

The pink-haired girl introduces herself first.

"Hi, everybody. I'm Lindsey and I'm the President of this club. Since some of you don't know each other, we're going to go around and have everyone introduce themselves. Say your name, what your stance in the LGBTQ community is, and your pronouns."

So Lindsey goes first, stating her name once more and that she's a gay girl.

Then the girl beside her speaks. "Hey, I'm Hayley. Most of you know me," she says with a smile. "I'm just an ally, so straight and cis, obviously. I think it's clear what my pronouns are."

A few people around the room laugh. We go around the room, people I've never seen before introducing themselves and giving the requested information. Their name, stance in the community, and their pronouns. Eventually, the group reaches Zac and I. I force him to go first, because I'm still feeling shy.

He introduces himself and states that he's just here with me, which really puts the spotlight on me.

For some odd reason, I feel too shy to admit that I'm trans. I'm aware of how common transphobia is within the gay community, which is what I _think_ stops me. So, in the deepest tone I can possibly force my voice to be without it being too obvious that I'm faking it, I simply state, "I'm Taylor, um, I'm bisexual and I go by male pronouns."

Without any issues, they move onto the next person that is yet to introduce themselves. This goes on until everyone has introduced themselves, and by then, it's time for everybody to go home.

I grab my backpack and speak to Zac a little bit, saying to him, "I'm sorry I dragged you here. I know this was pretty boring. I don't think this club is for me." A laugh escapes my lips. Zac cracks a smile, a small chuckle passing his lips as well.

Him and I walk out of the room but I'm soon stopped by one of the girls that I had seen earlier.

"Hey, uh, I'm Hayley," she informs me, even though everyone had just introduced themselves. I don't know what to say, just look at Hayley, and then at Zac, then back at Hayley.

"I've seen you around," she starts. "Are you new here?"

I nod, not wanting to speak. I'm confused as to why she's speaking to _me_ out of all the people that were present at the club's meeting.

There's an awkward silence, which she breaks after a few seconds by saying, "It's really nice to meet you. I'm glad you decided to come here. I hope to see you at the next meeting."

I give her a smile and quickly nod my head as a way to tell her that I hope so too.

"You're quiet. It's...cute. Have a good night," she says to me, smiling and patting my shoulder. I turn around, walking alongside Zac. He gives my shoulder a shove once we're away from everyone else.

"What the hell was that about?" he questions.

"What was what about?"

"You not saying you're trans. Nobody would judge you there."

I sigh. "It's stupid, but it's because of that girl. She's cute, but she's straight. If she finds out what's between my legs, then my chances will be ruined."

"So you're gonna lie to her? Just because you think she's cute? What if you get her to like you and she wants to hookup? You barely even know her, dude."

This is why I hate him. Always has to think rationally. I give him a shove, just as he had done to me a moment ago.

"I didn't lie, technically. Just...didn't mention that important piece of information," I argue.

"That's lying, you dumbass," Zac says with a laugh.

"Well, I'll figure it out when the time comes," I reply, even though now I can't help but think about the problem he just brought up. What _will_ I do? It's too late now, I've already lied to her and everyone else there. God, I'm a fucking idiot.

"Taylor, I know you don't want people to know because you don't want them to see you any differently, but it's _different_ there. You think she would tell anyone? I doubt she would."

I just shrug, continuing to pout as we wait for my mom to pick the two of us up from our school.


	4. lunchtime

The following morning, I'm awoken at 7 AM by the loud alarm of my phone. As soon as I turn the alarm off, I notice that I've received a text from Zac.

 **Zac:** _hey T, I'm not gonna be in school today. Got sick at 3 in the morning. Still feel like I'm gonna hurl any second now. But I'm also super tired. I'm probably gonna be sleeping most of the day, but I'm sure my friends won't have a problem with you hanging out with them in the morning. The library is open during lunch. I'm really sorry._

I frown as I text him back.

 **Taylor:** _did you really just use the verb hurl in place of throw up or puke or vomit_

 **Zac:** _is that the only only thing you got from that message._

Even though I'm upset and am beginning to panic over what I'm going to do today, Zac still manages to put a smile on my face.

 **Taylor:** _yes, i did. but don't be sorry that you're sick, it's not like you can totally control your immune system. I'll see you tomorrow, big guy._

I know that Zac's usual friend group likely would not have an issue with me joining them in the morning, but I can't bring myself to approach them. Instead, I sit alone in the hallway until first period. I can see the three teenagers sitting in their usual spot beside the vending machines (that they never purchase anything from), but I'm too shy to walk over to them. I always feel so unwanted around them, like I'm a burden, even though they've done nothing that would prove my suspicions correct.

Throughout the day, I do my best to ignore the anxiety that's building up within me. But when fifth period, my lunch period, rolls around, my anxiety comes out to play.

I sit in my usual location, looking around as my seemingly happy peers walk by me with their friends.

I try my best to enjoy the lunch that my mom prepared for me, but I'm also trying to hurry so I can leave the cafeteria. My anxiety is telling me that everyone is judging me right now, that everyone is laughing at me, thinking I'm Taylor the loner.

Almost five minutes into lunch, just as I'm finishing my sandwich, a familiar face sits in Zac's typical spot.

"Hi," the beautiful blonde says to me as she drops her backpack to the ground and brown paper lunch bag to the table.

With a mouth filled with bread, I look around and then point to myself to be sure that it's _me_ she's speaking to. I gulp, swallowing the food that is in my mouth and then ask, "Are you talking to _me?"_

Hayley laughs at me and then says, "Of course, silly. Who else would I be speaking to?"

I shrug, my cheeks heating up as I do so. I pray that she's unable to notice the way my cheeks are flushed now, but I'm not very good at hiding that sort of thing — I oftentimes wear my emotions on my sleeve, usually unintentionally.

"So, you're new here?" she asks me.

Even though I'm certain that she already asked me that question, I nod.

"Did you move here from somewhere else?" she asks me.

"Not exactly, no. I've always lived in Nashville and still do."

"Why did you start attending school in Franklin, then?" she asks me. I appreciate the fact that she's making conversation and sitting with me, but I'm not very good with talking. I also fear that she's asking all these questions because she knows the truth and wants me to admit it.

"I needed a fresh start. Things weren't working at that school. Needed a change."

She nods slowly. "Why?"

"Bullies. I've dealt with them since eighth grade. Last year, I decided that it had all become too much, so my parents agreed that switching schools would be for the best," I lie. I have been bullied, yes, but that wasn't what made me want to switch schools.

"What happened last year?"

I sigh. "A lot, I'd rather not get into it."

She seems to understand, nodding her head. She opens her lunch bag but instead of taking out any food, she just takes out her water and takes a small sip from it.

"Maybe I'm crazy, but I feel like your voice sounds higher than it did when I met you yesterday. Puberty is weird, huh?" she says with a giggle.

I'm then reminded of yesterday's miserable attempt at making my voice sound deeper than it really is. Wow, I _really_ should stick to my lies.

I awkwardly laugh, shrugging my shoulders. "Weird, huh? Why aren't you eating?" I ask her. She shrugs, just as I had done.

She stares at me for a few seconds, the silence between us making the awkward tension increase tenfold.

"I wanna be your friend," she eventually says.

"That's pretty blunt," I say in response, a laugh passing my lips. I admire the smile that appears on her face.

"I notice how alone you look when you're not with your friend Zeke."

"Zac. His name's Zac," I correct her.

"That's what I said," she argues.

"No, you said -- you know what, that's not important. I don't want you to befriend me solely out of pity. I'd love to be your friend, but I'm really not a great friend to others. I don't want you to force yourself."

She rolls her eyes at me before she says, "I'm sure that you're a great friend."

"I'm not. That's why I don't have many friends."

"I still don't think you're right."

I roll my eyes, although a smile is present on my lips. "I'll stop talking badly about myself on one condition."

"Hm?" she hums curiously.

"If you give me your phone number."

"It sounds like you're hitting on me, Taylor," she says to me with what appears to be a smirk.

"What? No. I'm not. I'm not. Why? What did I do?" I speak quickly and nervously. Is it that obvious what I'm doing? I shake my head, receiving a laugh from the girl.

"I'm messing with you. And by the way, no, my reason for wanting to befriend you is _not_ because I feel bad for you. I don't like seeing you sitting alone, though. So if you and your friend want to sit with my friends and I, or if he's not here some days, my friends and I sit over there," she says, pointing in the direction where her friends can be seen. "But here's my phone, put your number in. Give me your phone," she requests as she slides her phone across the table. I remove my own phone from my pocket and hand it over.

I add my phone number into her contacts, using my full name just in case there are other Taylors out there she's friends with too. She hands me my phone and I hand her hers.

I hear a laugh come from her as she looks down at her phone. "Why'd you put your full name?" she asks.

"Just in case you know other people with the same first name as me. And besides, I could be asking you why you put so many emojis in your contact."

She squints at me for a few seconds before saying, "Good point."

Just then, the bell rings, the loud noise echoing through the large cafeteria.

The two of us rise to our feet in unison. She sighs and then smiles. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow. Text me if you ever need anything," she says before walking off to attend her next class of the day.

_I just got Hayley's number._


	5. i'm a walking travesty

A few weeks later, I'm sitting in my therapist's office once again. My mom has joined me for the beginning of the session, the three of us discussing how I've been in the last few weeks. My mom gladly talks about how I've appeared to be happier recently, even with a new school adding to my stress. She blames the new medication that I have been taking, but I don't think that's why. Eventually, my mom leaves the room so my therapist and I can talk on our own.

"So, _really,_ how have you been?" my therapist asks.

"Good, actually," I say to her for what feels like the first time ever, a rare smile present on my face. She raises a curious brow, assuming that there must be something more to the story. She has known me long enough to realize that there has to be something causing this newfound happiness. I feel compelled to explain.

"I met someone. Her name is Hayley and we've been talking. I originally met her in a club at school that I started going to. The next day, Zac wasn't in school so I was alone at lunch. She saved me from my misery by joining me and sitting with me for the entirety of the lunch period. We traded numbers and have been talking since. We text occasionally but we talk whenever we see each other at school."

"And this school club you're going to, what is it? How many meetings have you had?" she asks.

I explain the purpose of the club and inform her that we've only had one meeting so far, despite the fact that it's been weeks since our first (and only) one.

"So she knows that you're trans? Does she care?"

"Well...no. She doesn't know. She _does_ know I'm bisexual and that I'm a boy, but she thinks I was born male, which is a confidence boost because it shows me that I'm able to _pass_ as a cis male. I don't know, she's straight and I fear that if she were to find out, my chances would be ruined."

"She's going to find out eventually, Taylor," my therapist says to me, causing me to sigh.

"I know. I just don't know how to tell her."

We discuss Hayley and my situation in my new school for a bit longer. Eventually, she asks me a question that I was hoping she would forget to bring up.

"So, since I saw you last, any more self-harm? You seem to be feeling a bit better, but are you happy?"

I look down at my lap to avoid all eye contact. Eventually, I raise my gaze and tell her, "Yes, I have hurt myself. And no, I'm not feeling much better. I mean, yeah, it feels good to be around Hayley. When I'm with her, my issues seem to momentarily vanish. But that's just a distraction. She's not _really_ helping me. Not in the long run, at least."

"Where did you do it?" she asks, referring to the self-harm. I gesture towards my right thigh, lightly running my hand over the jean covered area.

"How about suicidal thoughts?" she asks. My jaw clenches slightly and I once again look down.

"Haven't gone away. Every time I start feeling that way, I tell myself the same thing: 'I can't die in this body.' I don't want to be stuck like this forever. But there's _also_ a voice in the back of my head that insists that there's no hope, that I may as well end it now because no matter what happens, I'm going to die like this, in this stupid body." I'm tearing up at this point, rapidly blinking in a so far successful attempt to resist crying.

She frowns. "Honey, you're _not_ going to die like this. Your mother loves you and yes, I know it's taking her time to really accept this, but she _does_ love you with all of her heart. She wouldn't be bringing you here if she didn't."

I slowly nod my head, tears streaming down my cheeks. Maybe she's right. But then again, what if she's wrong?


	6. life of the party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor smut warning

In the next few weeks, my responsibilities pile up. Because of this, I decide against attending the second meeting for the club that I am now a member of. I have too much on my plate.

It's also worth noting that due to my busy schedule, Hayley and I haven't been talking quite as much. I'm always stressed and very rarely have time to text her, and when I see her in person I'm usually in a hurry to get where I need to be. My liking towards her has not gone away, though, but instead it really just consists of admiring her from afar now.

One Friday in mid-September, I'm sitting in my bedroom when I feel my phone vibrating in the pocket of my jeans. When I remove it from my pocket and see there is a text from Zac, I immediately smile.

 **Zac:** _you've been really stressed lately so we're going to a party tonight_

 **Taylor:** _No, I want to get my homework done tonight_

 **Zac:** _you have the whole weekend to do that. Come on, just one night._

 **Taylor:** No

 **Zac:** _pleeeeease_

I've known Zac since kindergarten, therefore I _know_ how persistent he is and I know that he's going to continue to insist that I join him until I finally agree. And if he thinks this tactic is going to work, then he's god damn right.

 **Taylor:** _God, fine. I'll go with you. Where is it?_

 **Zac:** _someone sent me the address so I'll forward it to you in a bit. What I do know, though, is that almost everyone that's popular is going to be there_

 **Taylor:** _That's only giving me a reason not to go. You know I don't love big crowds._

 **Zac:** _you just need to drink a little bit and you'll be fine. josh is gonna drive me and agreed to pick you up as well_

 **Taylor:** _Really? Josh is the only option? Nobody else can drive?_

Unfortunately, I'm not a big fan of most of Zac's family. He grew up in a very strict and conservative household and he somehow seems to not have been affected by that. Josh is very different from Zac, having been strongly influenced by his family's close-minded opinions. For obvious reasons, he doesn't like me too much, but he and the rest of the Farro family do their best to be polite to me for Zac's sake.

 **Zac:** _t you know josh isn't gonna tell anyone where we're going. he may be a dick sometimes but he's just stupid and ignorant. You or me could drive but it doesn't seem smart since we'll obviously be drinking. And I kind of don't have a car._

He has a good point. I huff and text back.

 **Taylor:** _Fine. Just let me know when you're on your way._

At nine PM, I'm being picked up from my house. My mom is curious as to why I'm suddenly leaving at such a late hour, so I lie by telling her that some people in my grade are having a little "get together".

"Taylor, it's late," she argues.

"But mom," I whine, "you're the one who wants me to be more social. This is my chance. I'll sleep over at Zac's house if I have to. Please, I won't do anything bad," I promise her, even though I'm sure that promise is going to be broken within the next hour. She sighs.

"Fine. But I'll pick you up, you don't need to stay at Zac's house. And no drinking or drugs, understand me?"

I nod before hugging her goodbye and hurrying out the front door. In Josh's car sits Zac, the two of them listening to the static between radio stations. I climb into the car, settling in before I ask, "Why isn't there any music playing?"

With his arms crossed over his chest, Zac says, "Couldn't agree on music. Josh wanted to play his shitty demos and I wanted to play _good_ music."

"If you have a problem with my music, get out of the car!" Josh screams at Zac. Zac mocks his older brother's words.

The rest of the car ride is silent. The only other word that I hear Josh speak for the rest of the night is "Bye," before Zac slams the passenger door shut.

"What was all that about?" I ask my friend as he and I walk towards the house that Josh had dropped us off by. I nudge my head back to show that I'm talking about his asshole of a brother.

"He's been an asshole for _months_. My parents aren't happy that he's not doing the whole college thing this year, so they told him that if his stupid music career doesn't get anywhere in the next few months, he either has to move out or apply to colleges," Zac informs me.

"Why didn't you want to listen to his demos in the car? Are they really bad?"

The face that Zac makes answers my question completely. He stands there with closed eyes, head tilted, and a hand upon his chest. He slowly shakes his head.

"It hurts me how bad his music is. Just a lot of screaming and power chords. He can't sing for shit and he's ruining his vocal chords with his shitty screaming. Nobody wants to start a band with him."

"Maybe if he wasn't such an asshole, people would put up with him regardless of his lack of talent," I say with a smile, even though I know he has some sort of talent. Maybe just not much.

I don't recognize the neighborhood that the party is being held in, but I have no doubt in my mind that whoever is hosting the party is doing fine financially. Every house on the street would tower above my own, each lot of land being four times the size of mine.

Everything seems so foreign to me. When I walk into the party, nobody looks familiar. I try to give myself the benefit of the doubt for not recognizing even one face by reminding myself that this school is still very new to me. It's totally normal for me to _not_ recognize these random faces. But I also blame myself for not being more social, therefore not recognizing any of the party guests.

Not even two minutes into the party, I'm being bumped into and having my shoes thrown up on. I look down at the suspect in disgust. The stranger looks up at me with a grin, his vomit dripping down his chin. That sight alone is enough to make me want to puke as well. Zac guides me towards the kitchen before I do that.

"These are new," I whine as I look down at my dirty shoes.

"Here, take your shoes off," he says to me when I take a seat in the surprisingly empty kitchen. Well, empty aside from the girl puking in the sink. It's not even ten o'clock yet, and as far as I know, the party started at nine. How do people manage to get _that_ drunk _that_ quickly?

"Excuse me, I'm just gonna need to, uh..." Zac trails off as he grabs a paper towel and sort of forces the sick girl out of the way to wet said paper towel. He returns to me, kneels down, and starts wiping off my shoes. Luckily, only the rubber portion of my shoes is covered, which is an easy fix.

"Here you go," Zac says with a smile. His smile fades as he tosses the paper towel onto the kitchen table. I laugh at his new, disgusted expression. I always appreciate the way Zac acts with me. He treats me like a little brother, even though I'm older than he is. He's always defended me and made sure I was taken care of. It really means a lot to me.

"Whose house is this anyway?" I ask Zac as I pull my sneakers back on.

"Good question. Pretty sure it's a senior's house. Doesn't matter, though, because they said anyone could come. Now let's go get something to drink," he insists. I nervously follow him back into the house's living room.

Thirty minutes later, I'm feeling much better than I had been feeling earlier. This feeling is influenced by the amount of alcohol that's now in my system. Only took a few shots of whiskey in order to feel much more relaxed than I had been. It's not enough to cause me to make an idiot of myself, but it's enough to make me feel buzzed.

"Taylor!" I hear someone shout from behind me. I slowly turn around, stumbling when the body of a small girl hits my middle.

"Whoa, hi," I say with a giggle. Hayley looks up at me, a large grin on her face and her eyes bloodshot. I can tell that she's been smoking, but I won't blame her for that because I haven't been so innocent tonight either.

"I was just about to go outside, do you want to join me?" she yells over the volume of the shouts and screams coming from the crowd around us. I look back at Zac, who sends me a wink and a thumbs up. Turning back to Hayley, I nod.

She and I hurry out of the house, taking a seat side-by-side on the dry grass.

"We haven't been talking much lately," she says with a frown before taking a small sip from her red solo cup, which is filled with a brown substance that I am unfamiliar with.

I sigh. "I know, but I'm shy. I always feel like such a nuisance and I always struggle to keep conversations going," I explain to her. She frowns, but nods.

"I just felt like there was something between us, you know? I wanted to be your friend, maybe even something more," she shrugs.

My eyes go wide. "What? Something more?" I assume that everything she's saying is really just the alcohol talking, I don't want to get my hopes up.

"It's stupid, I know. We barely know each other. But it's rare for me to meet guys that are nice, cute, _and_ don't want to get in my pants the second they meet me. Most guys I've been with are assholes."

Her words are coming out slurred, her speech worsening more and more as she continues to drink.

"If they're assholes, why'd you date them?" I ask her. She laughs and shoves my shoulder.

"That's exactly why I _didn't_ date them. That's what I mean, dude. Most guys only care about having sex and then moving on to the next girl. Then they come back a few weeks later, then come again a few weeks after _that_. It's a cycle and I'm tired of it."

I nod slowly, before I ask, "How many guys have you been with?" I'm not asking this question out of genuine curiosity, but so I know what I would be getting myself into.

She sets her drink down and starts counting silently on her fingers. She reaches ten before stopping and saying, "I don't know, enough to know what I'm doing." A giggle passes her lips. "What about you? What's your body count?"

"Body count?" I ask in a confused manner, wanting an explanation for what she means by that.

"How many people you've slept with," she clarifies.

I think to myself _I can't lie to her again. Just tell the truth. Tell her you're a virgin. Tell her you've never had sex, that you're waiting for the right person to come along._

But, once again, I lie to her anyway.

"At least ten," I say. She nods, clearly having believed my lie.

She and I drink a bit more, her more so than me. After finishing off what's available in her cup, she walks inside. Noticing how she's stumbling and struggling to keep her balance, I stay closely behind her the entire time.

She struggles to pour herself a cup of what I discover is Hennessy. Wow, whoever is throwing this party is _not_ messing around with their drink choices.

"You're such a gentleman," she says to me after I finish pouring the alcohol halfway to the top of the cup. Her alcohol tolerance is astounding, considering how tiny she is.

"I'm just happy to help," I say with a smile. She stares up at me for a few seconds before crashing her lips into mine. I'm taken aback, but I do not protest. I stand there, hands on the countertop behind me, eyes wide.

She pulls away after a few seconds and says to me, "Let's go upstairs." I look down at her for a few seconds before I manage to nod my head.

She drags me upstairs (drink in hand, of course), where we struggle to find a spare room. We eventually do, ignoring the messy environment of said room.

I sit up on the twin bed, soon joined by Hayley. She climbs into my lap and begins kissing me. My hands are on her hips, her lips on mine. This is the most action I've ever gotten, so I'm completely lost as to what to do in this circumstance. She's grinding her hips against mine and slipping her tongue into my mouth. It's when I feel her hand against my stomach and feel it moving further and further south that I decide she needs to stop. I grab her hand, pull my head away and open my eyes.

"Hayley, you're drunk. We shouldn't do this."

"This is exactly what I meant earlier. You're _such_ a gentleman and you really care more about me as a person than you care about sex. You deserve this," she says to me. I shake my head quickly.

"No, you're _really_ drunk," I protest. She frowns in response.

"You don't even want this," she whines.

"I do," I reply.

"You're not even hard."

I gulp. Obviously my silicone packer didn't get hard, that's not an option right now. What do I say? "Please, Hayley, I just want to get you home."

"Fine," she says with a groan. I walk her home, finally.

"Goodnight, Taylor," she slurs and presses a kiss to my cheek.

When I check my phone, I see texts from Zac. I hadn't even considered the fact that I left Zac at the party.

 **Zac:** dude where r u

 **Zac:** _dude_

 **Zac:** _im freaking out dude i think i smoked too much i want to go home now_

 **Zac:** _please where areu_

 **Zac:** _bro_

Finally, I text him back.

 **Taylor:** _I walked Hayley back to her house. I'm sorry, I should've told you first. I'll come back to the party._

We end up being picked up by my mom, although we walk to a different neighborhood so any signs of a legitimate party are not present.

"Don't let her see your eyes," I whisper to Zac before we enter my mom's vehicle. She doesn't say anything for the entirety of the car ride, but as soon as she and I get home she parks the car and looks at me.

"I can smell the alcohol."

"Mom, I didn't drink. There were people drinking but I didn't partake in _any_ of it. Promise. I'm sorry that it's so late and I made you get us. Thank you, though."

There's no way she truly believes me, but she goes along with it anyway.

Too lazy to shower, I just change into my pajamas and climb into bed, immediately checking my phone.

 **Hayley:** _thank you so much for b ringing me home tonighy_

 **Hayley:** _I know you stopped me befauseyou didnt want me to do something id regret but i reslly wanted you to fuck me tonigt :/_

My eyes go wide and my thighs shift slightly when I read the second message. God, she's really going to regret this in the morning.

 **Taylor:** _Hayley stop. You're being weird and I know you're going to cringe at those texts in the morning_

 **Hayley:** _dude just fuck me !!!!!_

 **Hayley:** _that was kind pf blunt lol_

 **Hayley:** _but i had to get my point across somehw_

 **Hayley:** _anyway my head really huets goodnight_

Tonight has definitely been interesting. Not necessarily in a bad way, though.


	7. dirty little secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> transphobia warning

As I'm eating breakfast the following morning, I receive several texts from Hayley.

**Hayley:** _oh my god_

**Hayley:** _im so sorry I'm sorrry I don't know what I was saying last night thank you for bringing me home_

**Hayley:** _im sorry that you had to deal with drunk me, seriously. Oh my god I feel terrible._

**Hayley:** _I didn't mean any of what I said I mean that honestly it was just the alcohol taking over_

She didn't mean any of it? At all? I frown when she tells me that. Even though I had no intention of fucking her, considering she has no knowledge of what I lack, it felt good to know that she wanted me in that way.

**Hayley:** _do you mind me asking...what did we do last night?_

Do I tell her the truth, or do I fabricate it? I feel like I may as well tell her the truth, especially considering all the lying I've done.

**Taylor:** _Well you drank. A lot._

**Hayley:** _I remember that, obviously. Most of my memories from last night are a bit fuzzy but the last thing I vaguely remember happening is you and me telling one another our body count. What happened after that?_

I don't bother asking her whether or not she recalls confessing her romantic interest towards me, because that likely could have been the alcohol talking. I don't want to make things more awkward, even though I'm about to tell her about how we almost fucked.

**Taylor:** _We went back inside and I helped you pour your drink. You started talking about how much of a gentleman I was being and then we somehow ended up making out in one of the rooms upstairs._

**Hayley:** _Oh god, did we...?_

**Taylor:** _Look at your texts to me last night._

**Hayley:** _I forgot! So we didn't, I assume?_

**Taylor:** _That is correct._

Hayley doesn't text me back for a few hours. At 3 PM, as I'm sitting in front of the television, playing video games for the third consecutive hour, I'm interrupted by...you know who.

**Hayley:** _Hey! Do you wanna come over my house today?_

_Me?_ Did she send that to the wrong person? As much as I'd love to spend time with her, I instantly feel nervous. Maybe I should lie (again) and tell her that I'm busy today. But then again, maybe this is my chance. I can see if she really likes me, or _maybe_ I can tell her the truth. I just have to say it nonchalantly. I didn't directly lie about it, right? _Right?_

**Taylor** : _Yeah, sure. Who else will be there?_

**Hayley:** _Just us. I wanna spend time with just you. Unless you don't want to..._

I had assumed that maybe Hayley was having some sort of party and just needed to invite a few more people. But I guess not.

—

I drive to Hayley's house and nervously stand on her front porch after ringing the doorbell. When she opens the door, she's practically glowing. Her radiant smile is contagious, which influences a grin of my own to appear upon my lips.

"Come on in," she says, pulling me in by the wrist. I'm brought into the kitchen, where a blonde woman who somewhat resembles Hayley stands, preparing dinner. And by preparing dinner, I mean pulling a premade pizza out of the oven.

"So this is the Taylor that Hayley's been mentioning?" the woman, who I assume is Hayley's mother, questions with a smile. I blush, as does Hayley. She talks about me?

"Mom, stop," Hayley whines.

"I'm Cristi, it's very nice to meet you," she says with a smile.

"Do you two want dinner?" she asks.

"I actually ate before coming over, but thank you," I reply.

"No thanks, mom. We'll be up in my room!" she shouts, beginning to pull me towards the staircase before she even completes her sentence.

"Hayley, you've barely eaten today! Are you _sure_ you're not hungry?" she asks.

Hayley answers, "I'm positive!"

Once she and I are in her room, I ask, "Your mom lets you take guys up to your room?"

She shrugs. "She trusts me enough."

Based on what Hayley told me last night, I don't know if her mom _should_ trust her.

Hayley and I end up on her bed — yes, you read that right, her _bed_ — watching Pet Sematary. Her head rests on my chest, arm draped across my stomach. With the way her body is basically on top of mine, I'm having trouble focusing on the film. She sits up and looks at me, noticing my worried expression and the way my eyes aren't even aimed at her TV.

"What's wrong?" she asks with a frown.

I shrug and simply say, "I'm just having a difficult time focusing on the movie."

"You don't like it?" she asks with that same, dramatic pout.

"No, no, I _do_ like it," I say, not sure on how I should elaborate on my feelings.

Her frown becomes a small, innocent smile. "I think I know what it is. You don't wanna watch the movie, you wanna do something _else_ ," she says with certainty. Before I have a chance to comprehend what she means by that, her lips are against mine and her hand is resting on my hip. Suddenly, I think I know what she meant.

I don't know what to do. It seems clear to me that she wants one thing tonight: sex. I don't know if that was her original intention or a spur of the moment decision, but it is obvious now.

She brings her hand down to toy with the button of my jeans. Just as she unbuttons my pants, I grab her hand. She pulls her face away from mine, eyebrows raised.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"We can't do this."

"Why not?" she whines.

"Because...your mom's downstairs. What if she comes up here?"

Hayley shrugs. "She's never caught me _before."_

I sit up and push myself off the bed, my feet shuffling along the carpeted floors as I pace the room.

"You're making me nervous, Taylor. Do you want to leave?"

"No, I don't want to. I need to tell you something before we continue with _anything."_

She simply stares at me. When a moment of silence has gone by, I finally admit, "I'm trans."

Her eyes go slightly wider before she looks away.

"Like...male-to-female?" she asks, looking back up at me after a few seconds.

I slowly shake my head. "No, female-to-male. I, uh, was born in a girl's body, to put it in simple terms."

"You lied to me," she says quietly. "You lied to everyone. Everyone in our club at school, you _lied."_

"Well, technically, I didn't _really_ lie. Nobody asked me directly."

"Don't give me that shit. You fucking lied," she states, raising her voice now.

"I'm really sorry, okay?" I speak softly, not wanting her mother to overhear the conversation.

She ignores my apology, continuing by asking, "What _else_ have you lied about?"

_"Nothing_. Well, okay, I may have stretched the truth about how many people I've slept with."

"Okay, and what does that mean? How many times have you _really_ done it?"

I gulp and hesitantly tell her, "Um, I never have."

She brings her knees close to her body and hides her face against them.

After a moment of that, she raises her head and states, "I was trying to fuck a dickless _virgin?_ Why didn't you tell me? You know, I wouldn't have had a problem with it, but you lied to me. And that's not okay."

"Wow, _thanks_ for targeting my insecurities like that. Really appreciate that. But anyway, it shouldn't _concern you,"_ I argue.

"It should when I'm telling you that I want you to fuck me. I like — no — I _liked_ you, Taylor. Past tense. Please, just get out of my house."

I stare at her for a few seconds before complying, exiting her room and then her house without so much as another word.


	8. don't call me at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> transphobia and violence warning

Two days later, I enter the school and immediately notice the glares I'm receiving from total strangers. I do my best to ignore them, but I can't deny that I'm curious as to what's going on. Do I smell?

I ask Zac and his friends what's going on, all of whom claim to have no idea what is happening, that they haven't heard anything. I must be going crazy, I decide. I doubt that people are actually staring at me, even though it feels that way.

When I walk from class to class, the staring continues. I see a few people pointing at me, many following that action with a laugh, their hands covering their mouths to hide their amusement.

In the middle of my algebra class, my bladder decides that maybe drinking two large bottles of water was not a wise decision. I ask my teacher for permission to use the bathroom, which I'm granted. I hurry to the men's room, heading directly for a stall.

I hear some whispering taking place near the sinks, but the bathrooms are so bare and desolate that it doesn't take much for the quiet words to be echoed throughout the restroom. I am able to understand the words "girl" and "tranny" and "Hayley", the jumbled sentence being followed by laughter and some incoherent words. It's not hard to figure out what they're talking about and to understand why everyone has acted so peculiarly towards me today.

When I exit the stall and approach the sink, I can practically _feel_ the eyes of the two fellow juniors on me.

One of the boys asks, "Are you Taylor?"

"Uh, yeah," I reply as I crank the sink off. The boy looks over at his friend — who is on the opposite side of me — and lets out a laugh.

He then says to him, "I told you!" before returning his gaze to me. I'm looking up at him now, intimidated by his dark eyes and the failed attempt at growing a mustache that is present above his upper lip. "Why are you in here?" he asks.

Even though I know what he means by that, I decide to be a smartass. "I had to pee. Why else would I be in here?" I ask rhetorically.

_"No,_ I mean why aren't you in the girls' bathroom?"

I quirk a brow. "That's a really fucking stupid question to ask, you know. I don't think all the girls would be comfortable with a guy walking in there and invading their privacy."

"We know you're a chick!" the other boy exclaims. I don't know who these guys are, only know that they're juniors based on the fact that, oddly enough, they're _both_ wearing "Class of 2019" shirts.

"Why do you guys care? Why should it matter to anyone? Especially to _you_ lowlife assholes."

"What the fuck did you just call me?" the boy who had started this terrible conversation asks, his chest pressed against mine now. He's much taller than I am, so I'm awkwardly staring up at him.

When I don't respond he scoffs and says, "Fine, you're not a girl? Then you don't deserve any special treatment, there's no reason why I _shouldn't_ hit you."

Still, I don't say anything. I just attempt to dry my hands off on my jeans and turn around to leave the bathroom. But the boys follow closely behind me, one of them pushing me up against the school's blue lockers, which causes me to fall to the floor.

I try to push myself to my feet, using the lockers for support, but my head is pushed against the hard metal surface once more. I collapse to the ground yet again, and try to stand once more. This time, the back of my head is slammed against the metal but my body is held up. One punch to my nose and I swear it's broken.

"From now on, go to the _right_ bathroom. Got that, tranny?" the boy says to me. With my limbs being restrained, I'm helpless. I don't nod, I don't verbally respond. Instead, I collect all of the saliva within my mouth and spit it directly at the boy's face. It's combined with the blood that has dripped from my nose to my mouth, forming a disgusting combination that this asshole deserves to experience.

I'm kneed in the ribs twice before the two boys walk away, leaving me to struggle on the floor. I can barely move due to the intense pain in my ribcage, tears falling from my eyes and blood pouring from my nose.

I'm surprised that nobody had checked up to see what was going on as soon as they heard a human body being slammed against the lockers. (In their defense, they didn't _know_ it was a body, but it was still _very_ loud). After several minutes of lying in the same spot, blood and tears pooling on the tiles, Joey just so happens to be walking by. I don't recognize him until he speaks, my vision is too blurred by my tears.

"You alright?" Joey asks as he stops walking and slowly approaches me.

"No!" I exclaim.

"Taylor? What the hell happened?" he asks. Jesus Christ, Joey, this is not the time for questions.

"It doesn't matter. Please, just get someone."

"Uh, okay," Joey says in response and hurries off. Moments later, the school's two nurses find me. I'm brought to their office, where they confirm that it does appear as though my nose is broken. My ribs, fortunately, are only bruised as far as they can tell. I'm surprised I don't have a concussion, considering the way my head was being slammed against the lockers repeatedly.

I already want to forget that this entire day even happened, but I am instead forced to file a report against the assholes who fucked my face up more than it is on its own. The worst part of my day is when I have to sit down with my mom and principal and am told that, "for my safety", I must _only_ use the bathroom in the Nurse's office. It's almost insulting because it shows that they really _don't_ care. If they cared, they'd try to stop the bullying that caused this incident. But instead, they're pushing the real issue to the side and acting like it never happened.

After the disappointing meeting, I discover multiple messages on my phone from multiple people. I wait until I'm in the car with my mom to respond.

**Zac:** _whoever did that to you better sleep with one eye open tonight because nobody fucks with my best friend like that._

**Zac:** _but seriously if you know their names...just let me know and we won't have another problem again_

**Hayley:** _hey taylor_

**Hayley:** _im really sorry to hear about what happened at school..._

**Hayley:** _hope you're alright_

I decide to text back the two people who reached out to me. Not even my dad cares enough to do so, but I doubt that my mom has even told him what happened. I don't know what I'm going to say when he asks me what happened and what caused it.

**Taylor** **→** **Zac:** _haha will do buddy. but seriously don't make me laugh it hurts too much right now_

**Taylor** **→** **Hayley:** _lol like you care. None of this would have happened if you hadn't outed me. I know you don't really care and you're not sorry. This is why I didn't come out in the first place. I know how close-minded the people in our school can be, and I was afraid that if I told even a small group of people then word would get around the school and something like this would happen. What did you tell people?_

**Hayley** : _Well...I told them what happened. That you lied to me by not telling me that you were trans and then by claiming you fucked a certain amount of people when you're actually a virgin. Don't act like you're totally innocent here when you lied to me._

**Taylor:** _Why are you acting like I killed a man? Yes, I lied to you, I'll admit that. But I eventually told you the truth. Don't even claim to be an ally if you're going to disrespect me based on this. I liked you, but now I want nothing to do with you. Don't text me, don't call me, don't talk to me in school._

"Everything alright, honey?" my mom asks when she notices how fast I'm typing and the furious look on my face. I look up at her, allowing my expression to transition into a faux happy one.

"Yeah, of course! I mean, I just got beat up and all, but I'm just happy I'm going home."

She nods and smiles, focusing her eyes back on the road. I continue to smile in case she looks over. On the inside, however, I'm fuming. I don't want to hear another word from Hayley. Not now, not ever.


	9. you want forgiveness

Since the incident, it seems as though my teachers are being more careful with me than usual. They're constantly approaching me, asking me if I'm doing okay and if I understand everything we're learning.

I tell my therapist this, along with the many details of what led to all of it.

"I had to tell Hayley. I felt so guilty for lying to her, she deserved to know the truth. I didn't think she would react so negatively. To be honest, I assumed that the worst case scenario would be that Hayley would want to be nothing more than friends. I didn't think she would go around the school and tell everyone my secret. I wish I never met her."

"The people that are judging you are not worth your time. They're not worth stressing over and their opinions should not matter. How are you feeling towards Hayley?" my therapist asks.

"Betrayed," I reply. "It was stupid of me to trust her with that secret. I wish I could switch schools again."

"You can't keep running from your problems, they will _always_ eventually catch up to you. I know it sucks to know that and it's also scary, but it's life. Anyway, tell me what happened specifically. The chain of events that brought you to this point, sitting in my office with a broken nose and bruised ribs."

"Hayley asked me to come over. The night before that, we were at the same party and she was being very flirtatious towards me. That's an understatement, actually, because we _did_ do some stuff. However, that's not important," I explain. My therapist is nodding, but her brows are raised out of what I assume is curiosity.

"But, as I was saying, the day after the party, I was invited to her house. So I went. She brought me up to her room, which I was immediately confused by. I was surprised that her mom allowed boys to go up there, which was the reason for my confusion. Things were fine until she noticed that I seemed...off. For whatever reason, she assumed that that meant I wanted to fuck, so she started kissing me and unbuttoning my pants. That's when I stopped her." I pause, wanting to see if my therapist has any questions.

"Go on," she says.

I continue, "I went there with the intention of telling her. But as the night progressed, I decided that I couldn't do it. When she asked me why I stopped her, I told her we couldn't do it. When she asked me why, I began making up excuses for why we couldn't. I said that we couldn't because her mom was downstairs, which she countered by telling me that her mom had never caught her before, so why would she now? I didn't know what else to say, so I told her. She was not happy with this news, considering I lied to her. I, uh, also lied to her about something else. I told her that I was experienced when it came to sex, even though I'm the furthest thing from. So, when I told her this new information pertaining to my gender, I also admitted the truth about how I'm a virgin. I just wanted her to like me, but now I've ruined everything."

"Have you hurt yourself again?" my therapist asks. I sigh and nod my head.

She stares at me for a few seconds before asking, "Do you really wish that you never met Hayley?"

I blink back tears before shaking my head. "No. I rarely receive any attention, so when I did, I dunno, it just felt so good. Especially since that attention came from her. I just don't know if I'm gonna be able to forgive her."


	10. head first with no regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut warning

Two weeks after telling Hayley my secret, which she subsequently exposed to the entirety of our school, I find myself in the house of another stranger who has decided to throw a big party on a Friday night. Zac has noticed how lonely I've been and forced me to accompany him.

I follow him around, barely eating or drinking. I keep my arms crossed, covering my binded chest.

Eventually, Zac turns around to look at me and says, "Taylor, buddy, I love you to death but you need to talk to _other_ people too. I gotta piss, so while I'm in the bathroom I want you to find someone and talk to them. While you're at it, enjoy yourself, get something to drink. I'll have my phone with me the entire time, so if you need me, I'm just a text away. But that's if you _need_ me. Got it, bud?"

I slowly nod my head, refusing to look my friend in the eye. When I look up, he's gone, which leaves me to venture out on my own.

I silently make my way through the party, silently pour myself a drink, and only utter a single word when I see a familiar face present in the crowd of sweaty teens.

"Fuck," I whisper to myself. It's _her_. She's walking towards me, a smile on her face while her eyes are focused on the floor. Looking around for an alternate exit to escape the room that I've found myself in, I manage to discover one. Unfortunately, by the time I begin walking towards it, Hayley has spotted me.

"Taylor?" she questions. I slowly turn to face her, noticing the disappearance of the smile that had previously illuminated her features.

I don't say anything to her. Not because I don't want to talk to her, I just don't know _what_ to say.

She looks at her friend, who shouts over to her, "You want something to drink?"

Hayley shrugs. "I'm good, thanks!" she shouts back.

"Can we talk?" Hayley asks me, speaking much more quietly now.

"I don't know..." I say with a shrug. Nonetheless, she grabs my hand, drags me through the party, and sits me down on the front porch of the large house we were just inside of.

This is immediately reminiscent of the night when she and I shared our first kiss, the night before I revealed my biggest secret to her. As soon as we sit down, a gust of wind blows by, that early October breeze causing chills to creep up my spine, the low temperature decorating my fair skin in goosebumps. The red flannel that covers my upper half is doing very little to protect me from the cold weather.

"What do you want?" I ask impatiently.

"I'm sorry," she says to me.

"You should be," I reply, then adding, "I trusted you with that secret. I was so _stupid_ to trust you. Do you even care about me? Did you _ever_ care about me?"

She blinks back tears, a frown upon her face now. "I'm sorry, it's just that I had never met a, um..."

"A what? A trans person?" I ask in an angry tone. She can't even say the word.

"Yeah, I had never met a trans person. Did you really mean it when you said that you never wanted to talk to me again?"

I let out a sigh before shaking my head. "No, of course not. I was mad. You were turning it to make it seem as though _you_ were the victim. But you weren't. I lied to you, I won't deny that. I'm sorry for lying, but I knew that if you knew, you'd never give me a chance. I liked you since the day I met you."

"Taylor, I was stupid. Truthfully, I didn't even tell a lot of people. Lindsey, my friend Brian, and one or two other friends of mine. I don't know how word spread so fast, but by Monday it was all everyone was talking about at school. I apologize for that. I'm sorry."

"Are you drunk? Are you going to forget all of this in the morning?" I ask half-jokingly and half-seriously.

She rolls her eyes. "I'm a _little_ tipsy but I'm fine, I won't forget any of this. I barely drank, I just got buzzed so quickly because I didn't eat much today."

"You know, that's not good," I speak softly.

"You sound like my mom," she jokes with a laugh, which influences a chuckle of my own to escape my lips. We both look down at the ground before looking one another in the eye. It's awkward, just like most sudden silences are. But things get just a little bit weirder when Hayley moves a few inches closer to me and presses her lips to mine, her skinny, bare arms wrapped around my body.

I don't move, simply allow her to take control of the situation. She pulls her lips away from mine, her teeth digging into her bottom lip for a moment as she looks into my wide eyes.

"Do you want to see if there are any empty rooms upstairs? We don't have to do anything, it's just cold out here..." she trails off, her hands against my chest. She looks down, quickly removing both hands from the area. "Sorry, I know that probably made you uncomfortable."

"No, no, it's okay. I'm not uncomfortable. I feel pretty comfortable with you. We can go upstairs."

We head back into the extravagant household and make our way upstairs, lucky enough to instantly find an unoccupied bedroom. I lock the door behind us, and as soon as I turn to face Hayley, she asks me, "Can I kiss you?"

A smile appears on my lips and I nod my head. I'd want nothing more than to feel her lips on mine.

Her soft lips meet my chapped lips, the two of us able to kick our shoes off and crawl onto the bed seamlessly, not interrupting our kiss at all. She places her hands on my belt, which causes me to pull away from her slightly.

"Hayley, I —"

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Natural instinct, I guess. Just kissing," she says, but just as she's about to return her lips to mine, I stop her.

"I want to make you feel good, though. I don't know much when it comes to sex and I'm probably going to suck, but you deserve to feel good."

"Are you sure?" she questions. Without hesitation, I nod my head to confirm that I definitely do want this. Even though she likely ruined my school year, I feel inclined to please her.

"Alright," she mumbles. She's below me, my lips hovering above her neck. I pepper kisses along her soft skin as my hands play with the fabric that creates the hem of her shirt.

She pushes my hands away, which causes me to pull away, my eyebrows lowered due to the confusion rushing through my mind. Does she no longer want this?

"Take it off," she says, pulling a little bit at the hem of her top. I happily listen to her request, assisting her in the swift removal of her loose-fitted shirt. As soon as that's off, her lips are against mine. Her experience shows, as does my lack of experience. I'm taken aback when she gets more into it. She catches my lower lip between her lips, running her tongue along it before sliding her tongue into my mouth. She quickly pulls away.

"Too much?" she asks when she notices how I haven't reciprocated the action.

"No, no. It's just...I've never done this before," I shyly admit. I'm not proud of that. "Well, other than the time you were drunk and started making out with me," I add.

"Okay, we'll take it slow," she says with a nod. This causes me to smile and nod back.

She leans back in, head tilted and lips parted. Although I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing, I part my lips and let Hayley do what she wants to. It's become full on french kissing and I'm not sure what to do.

Her tongue meets mine before retreating back into her mouth. It feels like an invitation to do the same, so that's what I try to do. But Hayley whips her head back and holds a hand up.

"Just don't jam your tongue down my throat. I don't wanna choke," she says with a smile. I nod.

We keep this going, getting the hang of it for the most part after a few minutes. I can't help but think that we've spent way more time figuring out how to kiss each other than we _should_ have spent.

Our lips part and Hayley brings her hands up to the top button of my flannel. She looks up at me, her eyes asking the question, "Can I?"

It _is_ getting hot in here. After a brief moment of hesitation, I nod my head.

She unbuttons my shirt from top to bottom, each button coming undone teasingly slowly. Eventually, my entire torso, binder and all, is revealed. Hayley runs a finger from my belly button, up the thin trail of hair upon my stomach, and pauses when her finger meets the fabric of my binder.

"You're so handsome," she says softly, a genuine smile on her face. I quickly shake my head, blushing as I do. She leans closer, pecking my lips once.

We switch things up a bit, so now _I'm_ in control and removing more of Hayley's clothing. Her pants come off, which leaves her in just her bra and underwear. It's a beautiful sight, one that I never thought I would be lucky enough to see.

I press a few kisses to her shoulder as I remove her bra. When I pull away to look at her shirtless, braless body, I'm blown away. I stand in front of her with my lips slightly parted, my eyes focused on her chest. She giggles, a sound that captures my full attention.

"You're...hot," I say to her with complete certainty. "Can I?" I ask as my fingers settle between the fabric of her panties and her skin. She nods her head, so I immediately tear off the thin clothing. Goosebumps rise on her skin, covering her arms and legs.

"Do you like what you see?" she asks with a grin. I nod my head, unable to form words.

She uses her fingers to gesture for me to come closer, which I quickly do. I imagine it's very unattractive how amazed and evidently eager I am.

"What do you want me to do to you?" I ask. Not in a sexy, teasing way, but in a genuinely curious way. I want to be sure that she experiences pleasure, I just don't know how I'm expected to deliver said pleasure.

"I just want you to finger me, babe. If it weren't your first time, I would ask you to go down on me. But since it _is_ your first time, we can save that for another time...if there is another time."

"I want to do that," I say without hesitation.

She raises her brows and asks, "Want to do what? Go down on me or do this again?"

"Well, both. But right now I'm talking about going down on you."

"Are you sure?" she asks. I nod. I'm sure about this.

She lies down, giving me full access to her body. "Do whatever you want, m'kay? I'll tell you if I want you to stop at all," she tells me. I nod and press a sloppy kiss to her lips, pressing similar kisses to her jaw, her neck, and then skipping her torso completely so I can finally reach the main course.

It's a little frightening, I must admit. Nothing is wrong with Hayley's _private_ area, it's just that I've never seen something like this up close. Porn didn't prepare me for this. It's not that I don't want to do it, though. In fact, I _do_ want to, as I told Hayley. I've watched my fair share of porn and this has always been something that has intrigued me. But now that it's happening, it's a little bit different.

I get comfortable on my stomach, settling between Hayley's legs.

"Are you okay?" she asks when she notices that I've been staring for a little bit too long. My eyes dart up to focus on her face.

"Never been better," I claim with a smile. I bring my hand forward, teasing her entrance with a single finger. My finger moves around in small circles, but never penetrates her. She moves her hips slightly in response to my motions, I assume so she can get what she wants.

This isn't the difficult part. For the most part, I know what I'm doing with my hands. Even though I've never been with anyone, I have...experience. (TMI? Yeah, probably TMI). I'm clueless as to how I'm going to make use of my tongue to pleasure her.

"Stay still," I demand. She follows my orders, which gives me a bit of a confidence boost.

"Um...do I just — " I start speaking, but am quickly cut off.

"Oh my _god_ , Taylor, just do _it,"_ she orders out of frustration.

I finally do it, burying my face between Hayley's legs and flattening my tongue against her clit. Her small hands come down and tangle in my curls, which not only encourages me but also keeps me close to her. The tip of my tongue moves in a repetitive up-and-down motion, meeting her clit every time. When I first did that, she flinched and let out a small noise of pleasure. But other than that, she's been silent and motionless.

My tongue then mirrors the earlier movement of my finger, circling around her entrance but never entering her. I try everything I can think of, but nothing seems to work or even get a response. Eventually, I pull away and look up at her. She laughs at me before I get a chance to speak.

"What?" I ask with a smile.

"You just look funny," she says with a smile. "Come here."

I come closer, our lips meeting for another intimate kiss (hey, I'm getting better at those already). She must be able to taste herself on my lips, which gets me a little excited in a way. It's definitely a hot thing to think about.

When our lips part, I ask her, "Am I doing a bad job?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "Not the best I've received, I'll admit that. But it's your first time doing _anything_ , so it's okay. Maybe just try using your fingers for now," she recommends.

Seconds after she finishes speaking, I lower my hand and use my index, middle, and ring finger to pleasure her clit. My digits move horizontally, my arm moving quickly. I connect my lips to her shoulder, leaving a trail of messy kisses from that original spot up to her lips. When I pull away to watch her face, I see her half-lidded eyes and parted lips and feel an immediate sense of pride.

"Does that feel alright, baby?" I ask. Using that final word felt so unnatural leaving my lips, solely because I've never called _anyone_ that. But maybe I just needed to get it out of my system once and I'll be good.

She slowly nods her head, her barely open eyes glued to me.

"You're good at this," she says breathlessly, the words coming out as a mumble.

"I'm glad you think so," I say in response. I would tell her that the reason is because I have some experience, but I don't want to remind her of that right now.

I sit up and move to settle between her legs. When I look up at her, I notice the slight frown upon her lips.

"Why'd you stop?" she asks.

"Just be patient," I say. I lower one hand, extending two of my fingers. My digits slide into her with ease, eliciting a moan from her. The thumb of my opposite hand, however, continues to stimulate her clit. This goes on for a few more minutes. The sound of her whines fill the room, and when I look up I discover that her eyes are squeezed shut.

"I'm close," Hayley warns me. I remove the hand that was being used to penetrate her so I can focus all of my attention on pleasuring her most sensitive spot. I do not stop the movement of my hand. And in a matter of seconds, she's unraveling beneath me, coming undone as moans leave her lips and her legs shake. I'm surprised that I was able to make her feel this good.

I raise my hand, sliding my fingers into my mouth to clean them off. She's smiling, her small chest heaving as she watches me in amusement. It doesn't taste bad, quite frankly.

Things are going great, the moment feels sexy and perfect...until I suddenly notice an unknown wetness that has formed on the bed. I look down at it, noticing the location is _very_ close to Hayley.

"What the fuck is that? Did you _pee?"_ I ask, moving back a bit and looking down at the stain in disgust. She sits up, looks at the spot, and shakes her head.

"No, I, um, I think I squirted, actually," she says shyly.

"You what?" I ask.

She sighs. "Basically, you made me feel _really_ good. _Really_ good," she explains. Even though I'm still confused, I'll just google whatever it is she means later. For now, though, I'm happy.


	11. why do we like to hurt so much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> transphobia warning

The morning after the special night I shared with Hayley, she and I finally confess our feelings to one another. I'm the first to do so, admitting how I feel through a good morning message.

 **Taylor:** _Good morning. Last night was amazing, at least for me. You make me really happy, Hayley. I really, really like you._

She does not answer me for almost two hours, which causes me to overthink and assume that she's ignoring me. But when she finally answers, I feel much better.

 **Hayley:** _Damn, deadass? I don't know why I'm surprised, considering what we did last night. But do you mean that? Because I feel the same way..._

 **Taylor:** _Of course I mean that._

 **Taylor:** _If the feeling is mutual...do you think you might want to, I don't know, be my girlfriend?_

 **Hayley:** _REALLY?_

 **Hayley:** _YES. I WOULD LOVE THAT. People always flirt with me or even hook up with me but never with the intention of dating. It's kind of discouraging lol_

I smile as I read her response. I'm glad she's so excited about being with me.

 **Taylor:** _Do you want to come over today? I want to spend more time with you._

 **Hayley:** _I'd love that. Just send me your address and I'll be over soon (:_

As I wait for her to arrive, my anxiety makes yet another appearance. I worry that maybe I'm forcing this. Yes, I _do_ like Hayley and _do_ enjoy spending time with her. But the majority of the time that she and I have spent together was when at least one of us was under the influence. What if I'm not the person she likes? What if I'm just the person that drunk Hayley likes?

But she's sober now, so why would she have said yes if she didn't _really_ like me in that way? Maybe she feels bad for me. On the first night we almost hooked up, she _did_ tell me that she hasn't dated every guy that she's slept with and just mentioned it yet again, so maybe I'm special. Or maybe she's just desperate to have a boyfriend. I don't know, I just want this to work out.

—

When Hayley arrives at my house, she and I hurry up the stairs and go to my room. My parents would never allow girls to go upstairs with my brothers, but considering how hesitant they are — more so, how hesitant my _dad_ is and how afraid of him my mom is — to accept me for who I am and really only view me as female (and a straight one, at that), they don't care that Hayley goes up with me. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. It's boys they don't want going upstairs with me, but they always let Zac go anyway because they're both convinced he's gay at this point.

As she and I are curled up beside one another, her head on my chest, she asks a question that I assume has been on her mind since she discovered the truth.

"So, like...how did you know?" she asks. It doesn't take a genius to understand what she means by that.

"I've known since eighth grade. It was like an epiphany," I admit with a fake laugh. "I remember it clearly, actually. I recall walking up the stairs in my house when the realization hit me. It was very random and sudden, but I didn't doubt it for a single second. I was happy, actually. Because since I was little, I wanted to be a boy. Every year on my birthday, when I blew out the candles on my birthday cake, I would wish to wake up and be a boy. All of my 11:11 wishes were to wake up as a boy, too. I finally realized that I'm not a tomboy, I _am_ a boy."

Hayley smiles as she looks up at me and listens. She continues with her questions, asking me, "Who was the first person you told?"

"Zac. I told him the night I realized it. I didn't need any time to process it, I was sure that this was who I needed to be. I was scared of what he would say, but he told me that he loved me, that he'd support me through whatever I went through."

"When did you start, um...what's it called?" she questions, patting my chest.

"Binding?"

"Yeah, binding. That's the word I was looking for. I was drawing a blank."

"I can't remember exactly when. Probably almost a year ago. Long enough to fuck up my back. Why are you asking all these questions? Not that I have a problem with answering them, just curious."

She shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know, I guess I just want to have a better understanding of everything so I can help you as much as possible. I'll stop asking all these questions if you want me to..."

"No, no, I don't want that," I reply. "I'll answer any questions you have."

"Do you ever think about...changing?" she asks. Unsure of what she means by that, I quirk a brow.

"Changing?" I repeat. "Changing how?"

She shrugs once again as she looks down. "Like, surgery and stuff," she says softly. I sigh.

"I want that, but I have a long way to go. I want testosterone too but I'm a little bitch who is afraid of shots," I say, causing Hayley to laugh.

"But one day, yes, I hope I'll look and _feel_ how I want."

When I look down at Hayley, the smile that crosses her lips results in my own lips to curl into a smile of their own. She leans up, bringing her lips against mine. It's a soft, gentle kiss, one that I wish didn't have to end.

After our lips part, she resumes her questioning, asking me, "What surgeries _would_ you get? What are they like?"

"I feel like some of this stuff may sound weird to you," I say with a sigh, but continue regardless, "I want top surgery, which is just getting rid of all _this_ shit," I explain, gesturing towards my chest. "And then I would consider bottom surgery too. God, I don't even know why I'm talking about this, it's not even definitely going to happen. It probably _won't_."

I feel her fingers against my chin, and she forces my eyes to meet hers. "Don't talk like that. I'll even help you if you let me. It _will_ happen. Just have to take it one step at a time," she assures me.

She continues, "I'm also wondering...will I ever get to see your body? Naked and stuff? Before surgery, I mean."

I shrug, "I don't know. Maybe. Just give me time, okay?"

"That's fine," she says with a smile.

Just as I'm about to kiss her, I hear, "Taylor...and friend, it's time for dinner!"

—

When Hayley and I join my parents downstairs, my dad is already at the table, digging into his meal.

"Hey, you two. Have a seat," my mom says, two plates full of spaghetti placed on the table, I assume for Hayley and I.

My dad doesn't say anything to either of us. Things have been incredibly awkward since I came out to him. We rarely talk, and when we do there's still an obvious elephant in the room that neither of us will address.

"Peter," my mom says in an attempt to grab my dad's attention. He looks up at her with an expression that says that whatever my mom has to say, he doesn't care. "This is Taylor's friend. Would you like to introduce yourself?" she asks Hayley.

"Uh, sure. I'm Hayley, Taylor's...friend."

"How did you two meet?" my dad asks in the most monotone voice I think I have ever heard. He's clearly not interested but is still pretending to be for my mom's sake. He's not even looking at her.

"Well, we went to the same after school club. That was how we originally met. But one day, I saw him in the cafeteria and he was eating alone. So I went over and joined him. So, um, long story short, now we're close friends."

I appreciate the fact that she excluded the parts about us getting drunk at a party and almost hooking up, and then later on _actually_ hooking up.

"Are you going to eat?" I ask her, considering I'm already one-quarter done with my meal and she hasn't touched hers.

"Uh, yeah," she says hesitantly, slowly picking up her fork and swirling the noodles around it. She doesn't raise her fork to eat her food, though, just continues staring at it as she twirls it around and around.

"Who is this 'he' that you were talking about in your story?" my dad asks Hayley.

"Hm?" she hums in confusion.

"You were saying something about a _guy_ but were supposed to be talking about Taylor. Who were you talking about?" he asks. I know he's just being a smartass now. He knows _exactly_ what she means.

I'm glad my birth name is a name I'm comfortable with keeping, because if not, I _know_ he would not use a preferred name. He'd rather stick to his own backwards beliefs than let me be happy.

"Uh, I _was_ talking about Taylor," Hayley clarifies. My dad sets his fork down and slowly shakes his head.

"I had a feeling you would say that. Taylor _isn't_ a boy, she's just going through a phase. Please don't give in to it. You're only encouraging it. Right, Michelle?" my dad says, trying to get my mom on his side. She looks up from her plate, her eyes wide as she looks between my father and I. She slowly places her fork down and rests her elbows on the table.

"Well, I think Taylor should be able to express, um, him...self however he wants," she says. If my dad weren't being a dick right now, I'd be ecstatic over this. This is the first time my mom has ever called me by the correct pronouns in front of my dad. It sounded very forced, but I think she's trying to prove a point to him.

"You've _gotta_ be kidding me. You can't just change your gender whenever you feel like it," he argues. "I'm sure that in a year, you'll go back to being a girl. Everyone goes through weird phases, you're just going through one now. Like that weird, punk phase in middle school? That didn't last!" he argues.

"I've known for _years!"_ I counter.

"People don't just change like that!" he exclaims.

Our screaming match is followed by a silence that is broken when Hayley says, "I should go."

"No, Hayley, please," I plead, but she's already standing up.

"You haven't even eaten anything," I add in a poor attempt to persuade her to stay.

She shakes her head. "I should really go, Taylor. I'll see you on Monday." She waves goodbye to my parents, but only my mom waves back.

Once she's gone, I finally say, "Thanks for embarrassing me in front of my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend? Taylor, I am okay with you being gay. But I am _not_ okay with you trying to completely change who you are. I'm _not_ okay with losing the child I helped raise."

I huff and shake my head. "First of all: I'm not even gay. And second: being with Hayley would _not_ make me gay, because I _am_ a boy. Probably more of a man than _you_ are. You make me wish I was dead!" I exclaim with tears forming in my eyes. I storm upstairs, slamming my door behind me.


	12. open your eyes like i opened mine

As soon as I storm up to my room, I text Hayley. I'm crying hysterically, tears streaming down my scarlet cheeks.

**Taylor:** _I dont wanna live here anymore_

**Taylor:** _he's never gonna let me be the person I want to be I wish I could move out_

**Taylor:** _im sorry you had to witness that tonight...I'm really embarrassed._

**Hayley:** _stop it_

**Hayley:** _Just breathe, okay? Everything is going to be okay. I'll make sure of that. I'm going to do whatever I have to do in order to be sure that you're comfortable in your body._

—

The following two months are enjoyable, for the most part. If you forget about the parts about how my dad and I barely talk, my parents fight on an almost nightly basis, and I fear that they're going to separate because of me, then yeah, it's been great. Zac and I are still best friends. Hayley and I are still together, which is surprising, I know. I didn't think I was capable of lasting this long in a relationship.

But my birthday has rolled around, which also means that Hayley and I have been together for over two months. Not surprisingly, we celebrated that milestone by me going down on her, which I am definitely improving on.

(Maybe calling two months a milestone is a stretch, but every day I've spent in this relationship is an accomplishment in my book).

Two months in, though, and I still haven't let Hayley see _everything_. I have become increasingly comfortable with wearing only my binder around her, but taking it off and stripping myself of my bottoms isn't something I'm ready for. She's seen my butt a few times, so that's enough for now. Luckily, she's been very patient with me.

Although my dysphoria hasn't vanished, Hayley definitely has helped me with fighting back against my suicidal thoughts and has helped me refrain from hurting myself as often. I _do_ still cut due to everything taking place at home, but I definitely don't do it as often. Opening up to her about those problems was terrifying, but I'm so glad I did.

Anyway, she's been telling me _all_ about how great her gift to me is going to be. She hasn't told me _what_ it is, I assume because she wants to build up suspense. She got a job about a month and a half ago, so she has been working a lot lately as a waitress at the Italian restaurant that Zac's family owns. So even though she can afford to spend some money on me, I really don't want her to. It'll make me feel bad when all I can give her for _her_ birthday is a card (and some head).

Although the sexual aspect of our relationship is not the most important part of it, I'd be lying if I were to say I don't love it.

I decide to spend my birthday — or, rather, the Saturday _after_ my birthday — with Zac, who takes me out to an early dinner to celebrate. I tried to drag Hayley out with us, but she refused because she had to work. Towards the end of our meal, Zac informs me that he left his gift for me back at his house, so we may as well go and hang out there.

I tell him that I like that plan, primarily because it means I don't have to spend time in my house with my family.

When we enter Zac's house, I notice that all of the lights are out, which is peculiar. It's a Saturday evening, why aren't his noisy, annoying younger siblings running around their living room, annoying Mr. and Mrs. Farro?

I feel around for the lightswitch, confused with what is going on. It's too quiet in here.

Suddenly, the lights flip on and within the room happen to be all of the people that I consider friends, who aren't a lot. Regardless of how few friends I have, my face lights up when I see all of these familiar faces and hear everyone shouting in unison, "Surprise!"

Joey and Jon Howard are here, as is Logan, and even Joe, who Zac and I have just recently befriended. Best of all, though, is my bleach blonde-haired girlfriend who stands in the middle of Zac's living room, a party hat upon her head. Next to her stands one of her best friends, Brian. Having so many people here for _me_ makes me very happy.

"Where's your family?" I ask Zac.

"I made them stay upstairs. Had to appreciate my best friend," he explains, giving my shoulder a firm punch.

The night is one that I know I will not forget. No, we don't get stoned or wasted and nobody jumps off the roof (that would require us going outside, which it is far too cold for). We just sit around Zac's living room, drinking soda and sharing stories. (Joe may have slipped something into his own drink but hey, I'm not judging). I share the entertaining story of how Zac and I met, explaining how he ran away from me because he was convinced I had cooties, which, in turn, somehow resulted in us being friends.

"Wait! We have to open presents!" Zac shouts when there's a pause between conversations.

Most of the gifts are just money, which I am more than happy with. Zac takes out a poorly wrapped box and hands it to me. I tear off the Christmas-themed paper and open the box, which holds a mewithoutYou vinyl album, the cover signed by all of the members of said band. Do I want to cry? Yes. Do I? A little bit.

Lastly, Hayley hands over an envelope. I'm confused, because I assume she's just giving me money based off of the external appearance. So why did she hype her gift up so much?

When I tear open the white envelope and read what is written inside the card, my jaw drops.

It reads:

_Taylor,_

_These last 2 months we've been together have been incredible. I didn't know that someone could make me feel so complete and so happy but then you came along. You proved to me that I'm worth someone's time. You make me feel worth it. I know things haven't always been easy for you; hell, they've been the furthest thing from. Coming from an unsupportive family, struggling to love yourself, being so uncomfortable in your own body._

_You came along and opened my ignorant eyes, you showed me that even if I didn't love myself, I could love someone else. I love you, baby._ ♡

_With all of that being said, I want to help you. If you're not ready for this or if you know it's just not the right time, then I understand and we can wait until a later time. But what I want to do is help you afford testosterone. I know how important that is to you. I'm working, I have enough money to at least help you with affording it._

_Love always,_  
_Hayley_

As soon as I finish reading her special card, I look up to her, leap forward, and wrap my arms around her body. She giggles and wraps her slim arms around my neck and shoulders.

"Sound good?" she asks me. I nod my head.

"Sounds perfect," I say with a grin, happy tears forming in my eyes.


	13. i wanna be there for you

"Taylor, calm down," Hayley says to me as she places her hand on my bouncing leg. We're waiting in the office of the doctor who will decide whether or not I am ready — both mentally and physically — to undergo hormone replacement therapy.

"I can't. I'm nervous," I whine. We're the only people in the waiting room, the last remaining person having gone to see the doctor precisely nine minutes ago. I've been watching the clock closely.

"Taylor York?" a soft male voice calls out. My head twists to aim my eyes in the direction in which my name was called from. A middle-aged man stands in the doorway, his tall body wedged between the door and its frame. He has a clipboard in hand, his eyes focused on it and eyebrows furrowed.

Hayley walks with me towards the doctor, who looks up at me as soon as I approach him.

"I take it you're Taylor?" he asks. I nod my head. He extends his hand, which I firmly shake.

"Follow me," he says before guiding us to his office. A plaque sits on his desk, it reads in silver letters _Dr. Weekes._

"Take a seat," he says, sitting down behind his desk with Hayley and I opposite him.

He smiles at the two of us. "Is this your sister?" he asks. I look over at Hayley and then back at him.

"Uh, no. She's my girlfriend."

"Ah, I understand. Well, I've reviewed your information and noticed that you did _not_ write anything about your insurance. I assume this was an accident," he says, raising his brows.

"No, actually. I'm willing to pay out of pocket for it," I say with a nod.

He looks at me for a few seconds, blinks a few times, and then looks at Hayley. He stares at her for a few seconds before refocusing his attention on me and saying, "Unfortunately, that may not be an easy task. Depending on what type you choose, you could be spending hundreds per month. On top of that, the costs of these appointments will really add up. Please, answer this honestly; do your parents know you're here?"

I gulp and look down at my lap. In truth, no, they don't know. My dad would kill me if he were to find out.

"Yes," I lie. It is clear as day that he does not believe me, considering how unnatural and forced my response was.

"If you say so. Well, to begin, I want to go over the side effects of hormone replacement therapy, specifically for testosterone. It's important to consider these factors before starting treatment. Keep in mind that I'm not going to write up a script and send it to the pharmacy as soon as we're done today. We'll need to meet a few times, got that?" he asks, earning a nod from me. I reach for Hayley's hand, giving it a firm squeeze once our fingers have intertwined. The doctor clears his throat.

"Most patients focus only on the positives, which is great and all, but it's important to also consider the negatives. Mood changes, including increased aggression, are likely. You may lose weight, and your fat will move from your hips and thighs to your stomach. It will not take long for facial hair to develop, but not necessarily too much of it. Many of my patients have used Minoxidil to improve their facial hair growth, so if you're interested, that's worth giving a try. Hair will begin growing on your chest, as well as on the rest of your body, where hair will start growing in thicker and darker than it already does. As I imagine you already know, testosterone will not cause your breasts to magically disappear. Although you may experience shrinkage, it cannot do anything about excess skin. Surgery would be needed for that and for complete removal of breast tissue. There are many different types of testosterone: gels, shots, pills. We can discuss that next time we meet."

When he pauses, I quietly ask, "What about, like, sex?" Very vague question, I know. I feel my cheeks heating up as the words leave my lips. I can _feel_ Hayley's eyes on me.

"Well, you will eventually be able to stop worrying about your menstrual cycle. Hormones greatly decrease the chances of pregnancy, but that does not rule out the possibility _completely_. So, if engaging in intercourse with an individual of the opposite sex, be safe. I mean, you should always be safe anyway, but I digress. You will experience an increased libido, or in simpler words, you will be more aroused more frequently. Your clitoris will increase in size, which will also result in heightened sensitivity. You'll essentially be experiencing puberty all over again. So acne, slight difference in appearance, increased sex drive, all of that is common. There's nothing wrong with it. But I want you to consider all of this before the next time we meet. And, Taylor, I'm not an idiot. _Please_ talk to your parents."

I gulp and nod, keeping my head high as Hayley and I exit. We schedule another appointment, but before we do so the receptionist informs Hayley of the price of _just_ this appointment. My jaw drops. There's no way Hayley is going to be able to afford several more appointments _and_ the hormones.

When I'm driving Hayley home, I say, "I should talk to my mom. There's no way we'll be able to pay for this out of pocket. Not just the T, but the appointments too. I won't let you pay that."

"Babe, I told you I would help you. So that's what I'm doing," she says with a frown that I notice out of the corner of my eye.

"You spent three _hundred_ dollars on just one appointment. That's probably more than you made this month."

She sighs. "Fine. If you want me to be there when you talk to your mom, then I can be. Does she like me?"

I slowly nod my head. "I think she likes _you_ more than she likes _me_ ," I say, hearing Hayley's laughter seconds later.

I smile when I hear that blissful sound. I'll need all the help I can get.

—

On the eve of Hayley's eighteenth birthday, she and I are at my house, preparing what to say to my mom. Although it is a Tuesday, we are on our winter break and my dad is working, so we won't have to worry about him getting in the way.

The door suddenly swings open, revealing my mom entering the house with her bags filled with plastic bags, all of which are are holding groceries. Her head is tilted to keep her phone between her ear and shoulder.

"Alright, Stacy, I gotta go. Tell the kids I say hi, merry Christmas, and happy New Year," she says into the phone as she walks towards the kitchen. She places the plastic bags down, letting out a sigh as she sets her phone down as well.

"Taylor, can you help with the groceries?" my mom shouts.

Before she even finishes her sentence, Hayley and I are walking towards the front door. Together, we carry what's left of the groceries. When we carry them inside, Hayley smiles and says, "Hi, Mrs. York."

My mom flashes her a smile and reciprocates the greeting. The two of us sit down at the tall chairs placed behind the granite counter.

I gulp before stating, "Mom, I need to talk to you about something."

She raises her eyebrows in response to my words. She doesn't pause to listen to me, though, just continues putting groceries away. Suddenly, my mind goes blank. What do I say? How do I bring it up?

"Taylor wants hormones. Testosterone," Hayley blurts out. My mom slowly turns around to face us, a blank look on her face. She does not look upset, but she does not look happy either. She just looks...empty. Maybe she's confused.

A small sigh passes her lips. "I assumed this day would come sooner or later. I didn't know when. I'm not sure if the time is right, hun," she says with a frown.

"If the issue is not being able to afford it, then I could pay the copay," I suggest. My mom shakes her head.

"That's not the problem. It's your father. I'm the one in the house who takes care of the expenses, so he wouldn't see it in our bills, but he'll notice when your voice is deeper and you start growing facial hair. He's not ready. He's not an idiot, he is _definitely_ going to realize."

"I don't _care_ if he's ready or not. _Please_. He doesn't even need to know that you knew anything of it. Just pretend to be clueless if he brings it up. I'll take the blame. Mom, I'm _begging_ you. Please. Please help me," I plead, my bottom lip quivering.

She sighs once more. "You know I love you. And I've seen the progress you've made in therapy since you came out to me. I'm proud of you. We can find a doctor and see what we're going to do about this."

"Actually, we found someone already. We only went for one visit."

She slowly nods her head to show that she understands. Based on her expression, I can tell that she is unhappy that we kept this secret from her. But I'm glad she's willing to give it a chance.

—

My mom joins Hayley and I for my next appointment — which is on January second, the final day of our winter vacation.

My doctor introduces himself to my mom. None of us mention to him that my dad is oblivious to everything that is taking place. He explains everything to my mom and also goes into detail about the options I have. I hate shots, but I choose the injections anyway. They're the cheapest and seem the most efficient. Before the appointment comes to an end, he informs us that a letter from a therapist will be needed. Once I have that, all that will be required is written parental permission.

—

It's an easy task to have my therapist vouch for my dysphoric feelings. When we bring her letter to my doctor one week after we had seen him last, he's happy to tell us that I seem ready for hormones. But, as stated, me being a minor means that I need parental permission.

My doctor slides a piece of paper across the desk, my mom taking the paper. Her happy expression transitions into one of fear and regret as she stares at the paper. When I glance over her shoulder, I notice that permission from my dad is going to be required as well. We don't say much else to my doctor. Just thank him and leave.

As my mom and I are traveling home, Hayley in the backseat, I say, "We need to forge his signature."

"We need to tell him," my mom protests, but I know, deep down, she doesn't want to do that.

"I know what his signature looks like. I can _easily_ sign it and make it look like he did," I argue.

When the vehicle comes to a complete stop, my mom looks over at me. "Why do you know his signature so well?"

"Uh...I don't know. Just do," I lie, acting as if I haven't been signing things, pretending to be my parents, for years.

There's no further discussion. I forge my father's signature, hand the consent form over to my doctor during our next visit seven days later, and before I know it I'm being taught how to inject testosterone into my ass.

And the very next day, I'm in my room, nobody home but Hayley and I. My body is bent over my bed, my pants pulled down enough to expose my butt to her. Her eyes continue to shift from my ass to a looseleaf sheet of paper that she wrote all the directions on.

"You ready?" she asks, as if the answer to that would ever be a confident, honest yes. Ready for hormones? Yes. Ready to be stabbed with a needle? Maybe not so much.

"Yeah," I choke out before I feel the syringe piercing my skin.

"Just hold still," she says to me in her soothing voice that she knows I've always loved and has always calmed me down. Right now, though, it's hard to calm down.

It takes longer than it would take if this were a regular shot, like a flu shot or a type of vaccination. But it's neither of those things. The fluid that fills the syringe is thicker, therefore takes longer to be injected. Just as Hayley is about to remove the needle and place a bandaid on the injection site, I hear my door swing open. I turn my head to the best of my ability, and through my peripheral vision I see the last person I would want to see.

"What the fuck is going on here?" my dad's loud voice echoes through the mostly bare hallways. Hayley slowly removes the syringe from its location and stands up. I'm glad she didn't yank the needle out of my skin. I ignore the fact that I should probably put a bandaid in the spot which the needle pierced, but I'm too focused on pulling my pants up.

"Dad..." I say, but my mind cannot formulate any other words. He stands there with wide eyes, speechless for a moment.

He breaks his short-lived silence when he tells me, "The pharmacy called. Said something about your prescription. When I asked them what they were talking about, they told me that my _daughter_ is taking testosterone. Does your mother know about this?"

"Why are you home so early?" I ask, ignoring his question.

_"Answer me,"_ he demands. After all the lying I've done, I feel like I should tell him the truth. But who says he deserves that?

"No, she doesn't" I lie, my voice shaky. His jaw clenches and seconds later he's walking towards me.

"Don't lie to me. You're in _my_ house, you follow _my_ rules," he shouts. I push his larger body away from mine, which only provokes him to raise his right hand and force it to meet my left cheek.

He's never hit me before. He yells all the time, yeah, but he has _never_ laid a finger on me or my brothers.

When I look up at him, I can see the regret in his eyes. It's too late now, though, he can't take his actions back.

He's still too close to me for comfort, which Hayley seems to notice. She takes a step closer to us and places a hand on my arm.

"Mr. York, I think you should leave him alone," she suggests. He turns his head to look at her, giving her the coldest glare I've ever witnessed.

"Get the fuck out of my house. I think, for Taylor's sake, you should refrain from ever even speaking to her again," my dad practically demands. That's the last thing he says before storming out of my room.

Hayley turns her head to look at me, mouths the words, "I'm sorry" and begins walking away. Tears are welling in my eyes, as well as in hers. As soon as she exits my room, the tears begin to fall.

Wow. Feels great to be a man.


	14. with you i feel alive

Just a few days later, I'm sitting across from my therapist. The bags around my eyes and cuts that cover my wrists only accentuate the obvious; I want to die.

Usually, when I hurt myself, I try to refrain from doing so in an area as obvious as my wrists. I typically aim for my thighs or stomach so to prevent my parents from noticing, but I didn't care this time around.

I don't even know what to say to Hayley in school. We still spend as much time together as we can: eat lunch together, walk together in the halls. It feels weird though. Needless to say, she was not very happy when she reached down to hold my hand but instead discovered the red marks that painted my skin. When her fingers brushed up against my fresh cuts and her eyes met mine, I didn't know what to do. So I cried. I broke down in the middle of the hallway, hordes of people walking all around us and laughing at me.

"Walk me through what happened," my therapist requests after I admit to the harm I inflicted upon myself.

I shrug. "My dad hates me. He doesn't care if I'm happy," I say, my eyes squinted. I blink rapidly to resist the urge to cry, which quickly proves to be unsuccessful. I raise my hand so I can wipe away a few tears with the sleeve of my large hoodie.

"I told you about the hormones, I told you that things were going well. Until, for some reason, my dad got a call from the pharmacy we go to. He didn't exactly elaborate on _why_ they called him, but that's not important. He came up to my room in the middle of when Hayley was helping me with my shot. Before coming up there, though, he already knew what medicine the pharmacy had called about. I don't know what he's going to do. My mom keeps telling me that she'll calm him down, but I don't know if I believe it."

"Did he say anything to you or Hayley?"

I nod slowly. "He told me I can't see her anymore."

"And are you complying?" she asks me. That is the only thing that manages to make me crack a smile. With a slight grin, I shake my head.

"Our relationship is the only thing that makes me happy. I'll feel worthless, even more so than I already do, if I don't have her. I need her."

"Even though I do not want you to be relying on a single person to find self-worth, I'm very glad that she's helping you as much as she is. How has she reacted to the self-harm?"

"She's not happy about it. She's really upset with me for doing it. I'm scared to tell her about the other things."

"The other things?" my therapist questions, wishing for clarification.

"I don't know how to tell her that I want to die. I'm scared that it will push her away, or she'll tell my mom, or that I'll just worry her in general. I don't want to stress her out."

"It's important to be honest about your emotions. How do your current feelings compare to your past suicidal feelings?"

I stare down at my lap and admit, "I've never wanted to die more than I want to right now."


	15. a hotter touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut warning

The last thing I plan to do is obey my dad's orders and break up with Hayley. Eventually, Valentine's Day rolls around, my first Valentine's Day where I'm dating someone. It's different, it's weird to look forward to it. But here I am now, waiting for Hayley to come over.

Even though it's a weeknight, my parents decided that they'll spend this Valentine's Day together and will go on a fancy date. I think the reason for that is because my dad does not want to spend _more_ time with me. But I don't mind, it means I get the house to myself.

Hayley comes over shortly after my parents leave. As far as they know, she and I are broken up, so we almost always need to spend time at her house instead of mine. As soon as she's in my house, with the door closed behind her, I crash my lips against hers. I can feel her lips curving to form a smile against my own lips. She breathlessly pulls away after a moment, a giggle leaving her.

"Someone is eager," she says, her innocent smile transitioning into a grin.

"Come upstairs, I have stuff for you," I say, guiding her up the stairs before she even has a chance to speak. On the desk in my room, there is a card, which is joined by a heart-shaped box of chocolates.

"Taylor, I need to talk to you about —" she starts, but pauses when she spots the box. She looks down at the box of chocolates and hesitates, breaking the silence by asking, "Is it vegan?"

I roll my eyes. "I knew you'd ask that. Yes, it's vegan. I went to _so_ many different stores just to find that. But it was worth it, for you."

She's smiling yet again, her gorgeous green eyes focused on my lips.

"Thank you," she says quietly. I notice her raising her chin and leaning in to kiss me, but I reach forward and grab her by the shoulders to stop her.

"I have, uh, another thing for you. Only if you want it, though. I know that you've been wanting to make _me_ feel good instead of it always being me making _you_ feel good."

When I pause and look down at her face, I can tell that she's aware of what I'm about to say based on the smile upon her lips.

"I finally get to see it all?" she asks before I get the chance to continue. I sigh and nod.

" _Finally_ ," she utters with a groan. "You're so stubborn. Wouldn't let me do anything to you. I might suck, no pun intended, but I'll try my best. We'll take it slow," she says reassuringly.

We begin kissing as we normally would do, and end up on the bed with my body underneath hers. Our kiss becomes heated, her tongue showing me its abilities by running along my lips and sliding into my mouth. I've always loved kissing her. When we kissed for the first few times, I was intimidated and not very good at it. She was so talented and I was so clueless. But I digress.

Her lips leave mine, just so she can press kisses all along my neck and jaw. When I feel her fingers slip beneath the waistband of my joggers, my initial instinct is to stop her.

I don't stop her, albeit I do ask her, "Are _you_ sure you want to do this?"

That causes her to stop. "Do you want me to do this?" she asks.

"I think so. But...I know you're straight," I say. Although I'm a boy, I'm fully aware of my genitals. Many straight girls or gay guys won't care, but plenty of them prefer to be dicks about it and try to invalidate my identity, or the identity of other trans guys. Same goes for trans women, of course, but I'm getting off track.

"Yeah, I am. And _you_ are a boy. A boy who I happen to be in love with. And you know what? I love you just the way you are."

Her words are enough to make me blush. I trust her.

I allow her to remove my clothing, eventually leaving me in just my binder and boxers. Her fingers dance along my inner thigh, pausing just before reaching the area between my legs.

She removes her hand, raising it to rest it at my hip, along with her other hand. Both of her index fingers curl beneath the waistband of my briefs, tugging at the tight material.

I shut my eyes, my hands balling up into fists. I've never let anyone see me like this. I feel so vulnerable.

I can feel the cool air hit my skin, but I don't dare look up. I keep my eyes closed out of fear that I'll cry if I look down. My lower region has undeniably changed since I've started and continued taking testosterone. But even so, its growth has not been significant enough, nor will it be in the long run, to eliminate all of my dysphoria. She removes my packer (the initial sight of which causes her eyes to widen slightly, considering she's never directly seen it before), along with the harness I wear to keep it in place.

"Do I have to take my binder off?" I ask.

"No, baby. You don't have to. And if you want me to stop, just say so, okay?" she speaks in a soothing voice. I nod my head.

I can feel Hayley's soft fingertips against my legs. My eyes finally open when I feel Hayley's lips pressed against my shoulder. A trail of soft kisses travels from my shoulder, up my neck, and eventually to my lips.

She hovers mere centimeters above me, her warm breath meeting my lips. "You're so handsome," she whispers to me just before two of her fingers are suddenly pushed into me. My breathing hitches and my eyes widen just slightly.

"Someone is excited already," she says with a small laugh, noticing the way my body is reacting to the pleasure. "Is this alright?" she coos. I nod my head, not knowing how else to react.

"Yeah, it's — I mean, I don't usually do it like that. I usually —" I begin talking, only to be cut off.

"No, no. Don't tell me. It's like a guessing game. Let me try something else," she whispers into my ear. I gulp and nod in approval.

She removes her fingers and raises them, pushing them into her mouth and swirling her tongue around them, both cleaning them off and lubricating them all at once.

If I wasn't already horny, her actions would have changed that.

She keeps her eyes on mine as she lowers her hand, but this time her fingers do not enter me. Instead, she places her middle finger and thumb on both sides of my cock and begins stroking it slowly, her digits lubricated only by her saliva. She rubs me softly, knowing how sensitive the area is. Initially, it's a teasingly slow pace, but it doesn't take long for that to change. She gradually increases the speed in which her hand moves, and after what must be two minutes, I'm gasping for air.

Throughout that time, Hayley is constantly whispering things to me. "You're so handsome." "I love the sounds you make." "Feel good?" "I love you so much."

When her hand stops, I'm not sure whether I should be angry or grateful. I didn't want her to stop, but at the same time, that was a _lot_ to handle.

"I want to go down on you," she says, which catches me off guard.

"You want to — are you sure?" I ask in complete shock.

"T, you've been going down on me _all the time_ since we started dating. I want to return the favor. Can I _please_ suck your dick?" she asks with wide eyes and her bottom lip puffed out. When she's pouting like that, it's impossible for me to say no. It definitely helps that she's using terminology that I'd prefer, by referring to my junk by the same words she would use for a cis guy's genitals.

"Okay, _fine,"_ I groan. She pecks my lips before moving down my body. She crawls between my legs, settling onto her stomach with her elbows propping her up.

She presses kisses along my inner thighs before diving right in.

As uncomfortable as I am with my body, I've never had trouble with masturbating. It's always been sex that scares me. But as I feel Hayley's tongue against my most sensitive area, her tongue exploring my most secret place, I suddenly regret not doing this sooner.

Her tongue moves in a circular motion around my length, and she proceeds by brushing her tongue against the tip. Her hands are holding onto my hips like her life depends on it. Her fingers have a firm grip on my sides, and this new, low-key kind of dominance that she is displaying is only arousing me further. Due to my heightened sensitivity, I know I won't last long.

"Oh my god, _Hayley!"_ I choke out just before my eyes roll back and a loud moan escapes me. My heart is pounding in my binded chest. My face is warm and presumably flushed.

I look down at Hayley, who is licking her lips as she rises. She collapses next to me. She is still fully clothed, but I feel like I should take care of her. I want to make her feel good.

But maybe I'll need a minute to catch my breath first.


	16. a better fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut warning

Once I catch my breath, I climb out of my bed. Hayley sits up, evidently confused.

"What's wrong, babe?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing," I tell her reassuringly as I pull on a harness similar to the one I wore previously for my packer, along with an already worn pair of boxers. "I got something else for today. I almost forgot about it. If you don't want to use it, then we don't have to."

"I'm confused," she states, confirming the obvious.

I drop to my knees and begin to search underneath my bed. Finally, I find what I'm looking for. I hold the object up.

Hayley's eyes widen. "Is that a—"

"Yes. Well, no. I don't know. It's a packer, but this one doubles as a, uh, you know..." I trail off, too shy to say the word dildo or sex toy or even dick.

"Dick?" she asks with those same wide eyes. I nod silently.

"Pretty much, yeah. I really only bought it for that reason. I mean, I _might_ end up using it as a packer, but it's kind of, well, too _big_ for my preference."

There's a pause in the conversation before I say, "Alright, now let's get you naked so I can fuck you."

She grins and nods. That seems to have excited her.

I prepare the toy by placing it in my boxers, the shaft visible by being pushed through the hole in the clothing. I bring the packer to its erect state and exhale a heavy breath.

"It looks...so real," Hayley says, that smile of hers having faded slightly, yet still present, her eyes fixated on the toy.

"I hope so, or else I wasted three-hundred dollars," I laugh awkwardly. "I'm sorry if I'm bad at this," I say with a frown as I join Hayley on the bed. Once I'm hovering above her, I assist her in the process of removing her clothing. Off comes her shirt, and her bra, and her pants, and her panties. She's stark naked below me, a sight that never ceases to amaze me.

I grab a small bottle of lube, which I had previously retrieved from underneath my bed. Just as I'm about to coat the toy in the liquid, Hayley stops me.

"Let me do it," she says, sitting up so her face is almost level with mine.

I nod and hand over the bottle. She pops the cap off, pours a small amount into her palm, and lowers both of her hands to wrap around my cock. She strokes it slowly, covering it in the lube.

Even though I cannot feel _any_ of what Hayley is doing, something about her actions feels incredibly intimate. Perhaps it's because although we both know this dick of mine is not real, she's acting as though it is. She always makes me feel secure.

As she does this, I run my hands down her sides. When one hand finally reaches the beloved area between her thighs, I'm pleased to discover she's already _very_ wet. My hand does not spend much time down there, soon rising to cup her breasts with my other hand joining it.

My fingers pinch both of her nipples simultaneously, earning a tiny moan that Hayley appears to be trying, albeit failing, in holding back.

She pulls away once she deems the toy ready. Lying down on the bed, she spreads her legs. I settle between her, but focus my attention elsewhere for the time being. My lips meet the center of her chest, traveling left towards the area I was just appreciating with my hands.

I take her nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue in tiny circles as my fingers tweak her other one. I soon switch which side receives which treatment. I can feel Hayley's fingers tangle in my hair, her arms subtly forcing me to stay close to her. I eventually pull away, not wanting to get too distracted.

I bite down on my lip as I kneel between her open legs, holding onto the base of the toy and wasting no more time in pushing into her. Considering how much the lube helps, along with the support from how wet she is, it's no difficulty sliding into her to the hilt. She lets out a long sigh.

"You alright?" I ask, my arms at her sides. She nods quickly.

"I'm alright. Just...haven't exactly been penetrated in quite a while. I'm okay. Keep going," she requests.

So I begin moving my hips with hers. With all the porn I've watched, I figured that this would be a simple task. But as she lies beneath me, reactionless, I begin to question my abilities.

After several minutes of thrusting and awkward conversation to try to figure out what to do, I finally say, "You're not enjoying this, are you?"

Hayley shrugs. "It's not _terrible_. Maybe we just need to try something a little kinkier. Do you want me to guide you? Tell you what to do?"

"Yes please. I'm lost. I'll take any help I can get." This is just like the first time I went down on her.

We switch things up, having her on her hands and knees with me behind her. Once again, I slide into her. This time, though, I receive a _very_ different reaction. Her back arches as soon I'm inside of her. Her head is turned to the side, which allows me to partially witness the expression of pleasure that is present on her face.

"Does that feel good, baby?" I ask, watching Hayley nod her head. Her mouth remains open, her eyes squeezed shut.

I continue grinding my hips against Hayley's, aiming for the same spot inside of her with every thrust. Her head is now pressed against the mattress, her hand working to pleasure her clit.

"Spank me," Hayley requests.

_"What?"_ I ask out of pure confusion, although the movements of my hips do not falter.

_"Do it!"_ she exclaims, so I do it. My left hand crashes down, meeting the left side of Hayley's ass. She groans, her bottom lip caught between her teeth following the sound.

Based on the positive reaction, I assume she wants me to repeat my actions. So I do, over and over again. Each time, a muffled moan struggles to escape her mouth.

"Pull my hair," she requests. So I obey, yet again. I reach forward, tugging on her bleached hair by its roots.

She gasps as her head is brought closer to me.

I've barely been pulling her hair by the time she demands, "I'm close. Choke me, now."

(How many hands does she think I have?)

Instead of following her requests, I stop abruptly. When I pull away, Hayley whines and questions my actions.

"Why'd you stop?" she asks with a pout that I am able to see due to the slight turn of her head.

"Ride me," I say breathlessly. "I mean, if you want to," I add.

She just smirks and nods. I take a seat on my bed, my back against the headboard. She climbs above me, with her front facing me, and slowly sinks onto my dick.

She whines and does not waste any time in moving her hips. Up and down. Up and down. So slowly. Little moans occasionally leave her lips, her eyes are closed. Therefore, she's clearly surprised when a hand of mine wraps around her throat. Her eyes instantly pop open, and a devious grin replaces the previous expression of hers, which had showed pure bliss.

"Am I choking you too hard?" I ask. Hayley slowly shakes her head.

I keep my hand around her throat, soon hearing a barely audible, "Close."

"What was that? Do you wanna cum?" I ask, regardless of the fact that I know the answer to this question. She quickly nods.

"No, no. Use your words," I tell her.

"Yes," I just barely hear. I release the hold I had on her throat, place both hands at her sides, and attempt to move my hips in time with hers. It's not the most successful attempt, but it is an attempt nonetheless.

Suddenly, her legs begin to shake. She starts to moan just a little bit louder. It's when she stops completely, pressing her face into my shoulder, that I know she's finished.

"I love you," I speak softly. I feel Hayley's lips meet my neck, which immediately causes a smile to appear upon my own lips. This is where I belong.


	17. beautiful scars on critical veins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> biiiiiig self harm trigger warning

Ever since the unique night that Hayley and I shared, things have been different. Initially, it was subtle; she would take a bit longer to text back, talk less when we were together, leave earlier than usual when we would hang out.

But things continued to worsen.

She wouldn't reply to my messages at all, she would refuse to hang out with me or go on dates, and, worst of all, she continued to tell me that nothing was wrong.

The only time we would _really_ spend together was during school. Even then, though, things felt forced.

Eventually, I decided that I was tired of this newfound attitude. Something was wrong and I wanted her to tell me what that something was.

 **Taylor:** _I miss you_

 **Hayley:** _We saw each other in school today, T._

 **Taylor:** _Yeah, but that's different_

 **Taylor:** _Because we act differently around one another when we're alone. You've been so distant since Valentine's Day..._

 **Hayley:** _You know I love you, right?_

 **Taylor:** _Yeah..._

 **Taylor:** _I feel like you've loved me less since seeing my body_

 **Hayley:** _I don't know how to say this. But I_ _'m_ _scared, for your sake, that if we continue dating, something bad is going to happen. I know how your dad is. The threat that he made scares me, to be honest. Well, it wasn't totally a threat, but I know he doesn't want us to be talking. I'm glad that he_ _somehow_ _hasn't noticed the deepening of your voice, considering how subtle it's been so far, but what if he does notice? It's gonna happen eventually. And what if he realizes that we're still together? We can still be friends, but I feel like anything beyond that is only going to be a risk for both of us. I love you, I just want what's best for you._

 **Taylor:** _If you truly loved me, then you wouldn't want to leave me right now_

 **Hayley:** _Taylor stop._

 **Taylor:** _Well you're not my girlfriend anymore so you can't tell me what to do._

 **Hayley:** _Can we at least talk about this?_

I decide against answering Hayley's unopened message. I calmly place my phone down on my bedside table and push myself to my feet. I surprise even myself with how peacefully I am able to walk to my desk, dig through one of the drawers to retrieve a small, metal blade that I ripped out of a stolen pencil sharpener. The small blade's been hidden in my drawer for months. Lately, though, it's been making an appearance more and more often.

Before I've even pressed the sharp edge of the metal against my scarred skin, my phone vibrates again. I roll my eyes and force myself to drag my body to where my phone is sitting.

 **Hayley:** _Answer me_

 **Hayley:** _I'm coming over if you don't answer me_

 **Taylor:** _I don't want you to see me like this._

After I text back, I sit down on my bed. The springs squeak beneath my body.

I take hold of the blade once again, small enough to hold between just two fingers. My thumb and my index finger hold the blade against my skin, pushed against a piece of untouched skin. Around the flesh is nothing but various shades of red, varying depending on how recent each self-inflicted wound is.

My phone begins to ring, which I ignore. I already know who it is.

I quickly drag the sharp tool from one end of my wrist to the other. I sharply inhale through my nose, but no tears form in my eyes.

As the dark red color escapes through the new slit I've made in my skin, I finally look over at my phone. The ringing has stopped. But that doesn't mean that Hayley hasn't.

 **Hayley:** _what does rhat mean_

 **Hayley:** _taylor please answer me_

 **Hayley:** _I feel nauseuos i caused this i caused whatever is happeninf_

 **Hayley:** _I just want whats best for you ad that isnt me_

 **Zac:** _Hayley just texted me and was freaking out. It was hard to decode her cry typing but based on what I could figure out, it sounds like you're doing something bad..._

 **Zac:** _I'm not stupid. I know you've started hurting yourself more often. You've been wearing long sleeved shirts even when it's warm out, you're always glancing at your own wrists to be sure nothing is showing. I don't know why I haven't said anything sooner...I just know that nothing I say or do is going to stop you. I love you T you're my best friend_

 **Taylor:** _I'm fine_

I was not crying earlier, but the waterworks began as soon as I read Zac's texts to me. I know I'm not only hurting myself, I am also upsetting and hurting my loved ones. But I can't stop myself.

I blink hard and retrieve my blade. Instead of tossing my blade into the trash or flushing it down the drain, as I imagine Zac would want me to do, I do the exact opposite. With shaky hands, I bring the blade lower on my forearm, closer to my bicep than the other cuts but still close to the others, and cut horizontally. I repeat this action in various nearby locations on the same arm.

Blood drips from my skin, landing on my black jeans. The red color is difficult to see through the dark fabric, so I should have no problem with washing it out and hiding it from my parents.

I grab my phone and, of course, see several new texts from Hayley that I must have been crying too much to have noticed earlier. I have just one message from Zac.

 **Zac:** _I know you're lying_

 **Hayley:** _if you dont reply to me in the next 2 minutes im coming over_

 **Hayley** : _taylor this ISNT FUCKIG FUNNY_

 **Hayley:** _thats it im comig over_

I count my scars from tonight. Seven. Plus one half-assed one, but I won't count that one.

I grab a tissue from a tissue box which resides on my nightstand and press the tissue against the new marks upon my skin. I find amusement in watching the blood seep through the thin material. Suddenly, I hear the doorbell ring.

I pull my sleeve up and hurry downstairs before my mom could open the door. When I open the door, my mom shouts from the kitchen, "Taylor? Who's at the door?"

"A friend of mine from school. They just need the homework," I shout back, succeeding in hiding the fact that I've been crying. But when I turn to face Hayley, it's obvious by my red cheeks and even redder eyes that I've been crying. And the same goes for her.

I exit my house and shut the door behind me.

"You should leave," I say to her with a sniffle. She doesn't say anything, just shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest.

" _Leave_ ," I demand a second time. But once again, she says nothing. Her actions say enough.

"You don't want me, so there's no reason for you to be here. What's done is done. You dumped me and I hurt myself. Leave before things get worse."

"You-you did?"

I let out a long sigh. " _Yeah_. I did. But you said what you needed to say. Get off my property before I call the police," I threaten, although we both know that I'm full of shit.

Her jaw clenches and tears fall from her eyes. She slowly nods, but it's evident that she doesn't want to go anywhere. Nonetheless, she does leave. She drives away, tears continuing to fall from those green eyes.


	18. i think we have an emergency

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for violence and transphobia

Not being able to speak to Hayley tears me apart. Whenever I notice new, masculine features that have appeared due to the testosterone, my first instinct is to go to Hayley and tell her all about it. But I can't.

Everyday, I catch her glancing up at me and looking away as soon as my eyes meet hers. It's awkward, but it almost feels as though we can read each other's minds. I like to think that she misses me, but that may just be wishful thinking.

The worst period of each school day is lunch. I've grown so accustomed to sitting with both Zac _and_ Hayley that it feels abnormal to be without my ex girlfriend.

Usually, Zac is able to distract me. But when Zac isn't here to comfort and distract me, I allow my own thoughts to get the best of me.

Today happens to be one of the days where Zac did not come to school. Due to my best friend not being around to distract me, I stare at Hayley for almost the entirety of the lunch period. I only look away when our eyes meet, but never take too long to refocus my gaze on her.

She left me. I don't know if that means that she doesn't deserve me or I don't deserve her, but I'm leaning towards the latter.

Either way, our relationship is over and has been for weeks. I feel lost and numb without her. It feels as though a part of me is missing.

I watch as another boy — a senior by the name of Chad — takes a seat beside her during lunch. He wraps an arm around her, and although her body language says enough for me to know that she's uncomfortable with the situation, she doesn't move away from him.

She's probably happier with him. As far as I know, he's a pretty good guy. I don't even know what their relationship status is. They could just be friends, but the way he won't take his hands or eyes off of her suggests otherwise.

Although I hope that my suspicions are incorrect and they're just friends, I'm not an idiot. I recall the conversation between her and I in September, which, at this point, feels like an eternity ago. The conversation where she talked about all of her hookups. Maybe this guy is nothing more than a random hookup.

The thought alone is enough to make me feel sick to my stomach. I can't wait for this day to be over.

—

As soon as the final bell rings, I collect my belongings and rush out of the school. Since it's a Friday, and Zac and I almost always hang out on Fridays, I plan on walking to his house.

I keep my head down and my headphones in, not wanting to make any conversation or eye contact with anyone. Even with my attempt of ignoring everyone and everything, I'm stopped before I'm even off of school grounds.

It starts off with someone innocently bumping into me. Well, I initially _assumed_ it was innocent, at least. As soon as I look up, I'm pushed against the red bricks of the school building. The back of my head meets the structure, causing me to wince in pain.

When I open my eyes, I notice one familiar face in front of me. Next to him is someone who I swear I have seen in school before but not enough to recall the name of.

"Come on, get him, Chad!" shouts the boy whose name I struggle to remember.

Chad takes a step closer to me, pinning my shoulders against the building. Through my peripheral vision, I see various students walking by. Nobody comes over to help, though. I can't say I'm surprised.

"You're Taylor, right?" Chad asks, although I assume he already knows the answer to that question.

"Who's that?" I ask.

"Shut up, smartass," he responds, removing one hand from my shoulder so he can punch me firmly in the stomach.

"You're the transsexual who broke Hayley's heart, aren't you?" he asks.

"No," I answer. _Technically_ , she was the one who broke up with _me_ , and therefore she has _no_ reason to be heartbroken. So I'm not lying.

This time, he delivers a punch to my face. His friend laughs and cheers him on.

Instead of returning his hand to my shoulder, he wraps it around my throat. His grip around my neck is so tight that I struggle to breathe.

"Stay away from her. She _hates_ you, freak. You're not normal."

He must notice that I'm genuinely struggling to breathe, because he loosens the grip he has around my neck. Still struggling to breathe, I'm just barely able to get out, "Okay, but you might want to save all of this choking for Hayley. She'll like it."

I think what really ticks him off is the smirk plastered to my face as I speak. I notice his jaw clench just before he lets go of me completely.

Instead of running away before he could do more damage, I breathlessly say, "Thanks for letting me go. Your mom's waiting for me."

His eyes go wide and before I can react, his fist meets my cheek. Him being as strong as he is, I instantly fall to the ground. He leans down and angrily says, "You're worthless. Hayley was the only person who cared about you, but she wants _me_ now. You're a useless _freak_. Nobody would care if you dropped off the face of the earth."

Those words hurt me more than any of the physical pain that he has caused. I don't say anything else to him, just stare as I allow my tears and blood to mingle.

"Let's get out of here," Chad says to his friend before walking off. I force myself to sit up and immediately notice that many of my peers were watching, some of them even recorded it with their phones.

Using the wall to support myself, I am able to push myself to my feet. I can't go to Zac's house now, but I don't want to call my mom to pick me up either. At least not when I look like this.

So I call the last person I want to speak to.

"Hayley? Do you think you can drive me home? It's...it's an emergency."


End file.
